


Killing Me Softly

by AlbaStarGazer



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Arguments, Art, Car Accidents, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Marriage, Memory Loss, Pain, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbaStarGazer/pseuds/AlbaStarGazer
Summary: “Sometimes I dream of you. Of times when I must have loved you.”“You did love me.”“I’m not him, not anymore.”“I know.”Rey clings to the hope that her husband will regain his memories after he survived a car crash that left him with amnesia.During her monthly visits at a medical facility with Ben, who now calls himself Kylo, she struggles to cope as he tries to make her let go of the past, and in turn, him with it.





	1. Free Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/gifts).



> This is for LoveofEscapism and you know why. 
> 
> I love you 💙

A petrichor washed over the rain-drenched streets. It made a difference from the fields of green and rich, upturned soil ready to bear life that she had found herself accustomed to. The sprawling metropolis felt cold and entirely too grey, tall concrete structures stood in an imposing manner when they had once brought wonder. Even the city noises sounded foreign to her, sounds that she once relied on when attempting to sleep.

Maybe she still searched for his voice amongst it all, an echo of what used to be.

Curling her hands around the steering wheel, she inhaled harshly through her nose, squeezing the leather until it squeaked and white bled into her knuckles. The visits came with both a sense of hope and despair. The latter always lingered at the forefront of her mind, by far the most overruling, so deep and dark; it consumed her for days on end. The dread kept her up at night with one limp hand outstretched and daring to drift over to the empty side of the bed, always vacant.

The loneliness crippled her, her self-isolation imposed not only by the accident but also by her own choice. Too many reminders clung to the people they loved, each forcing her to face a possible truth that she denied most vehemently.

If she thought about it too much, she would crumble and what use would she be then? In all of this, she had to step up and act as a pillar of strength despite the rocky foundations and cracks in her façade. In sickness and in health, her vows were concrete blocks, cement shoes that dragged her to the dark depths of her mind. No matter how she tried, she could not kick them free. The mere line of thought invoked a potent kind of poisonous sickness in her, if the roles were reversed, he would never see her as a burden, no matter what, his love was unconditional.

The years chipped at her spirit.

If it were not for her underdog hope, she would have been dust in the wind long ago.

Some days, she wondered why she even put herself through it. Progress had been made but at a snail’s pace, tiny flickers, so dim they might as well not have been there. Recognition did not come, even three years later, he regarded her with very little interest and an awkwardness ill fitting of a man she had known all of her life. A shadow sat in his place, a bare bleached shell that showed no signs of change or hidden life within.

Sighing, she rested her head against the steering wheel for just a moment. Putting on a mask of indifference and maintaining a pleasant attitude was one of the most difficult aspects of it all. Sometimes she wanted to cry and mourn her loss properly, other times, she wanted to shake him and demand he came back to her. More than once, she had to stop herself from screaming aloud in the quiet and spilling her truths, that she needed him, more than she ever dared admit, even to herself.

Most of the time, silence stretched between the two or trivial arguments ate chunks out of their time together.

Two strangers with a shared past but forgotten by one.

The gold of her wedding ring glared in the midday sun despite the heavy rain and overcast above. The weight of his wedding band, secured around her neck by a thin chain, acted like an anchor, it felt heavy but it always reassured her there was something to cling to. After a quick clearing of her throat, she righted herself, sweeping away any errant tears from her cheeks; she left the warm comfort of her car and braved the storm outside.

Puddles soaked her converse and made them squelch against the concrete but it did not prompt her to move any faster, if anything, she stalled, digging her hands deep into her jacket pockets looking for a reason to leave. To turn back and mutter an excuse about how she could not make it this time.

That worked last month, she feigned the flu and hid away on the farm, working herself to the bone until the light seeped from the sky. It had been a starless night, she remembered that. Quite like the night of the accident before the thunder and lightning came out to play and cast their wicked ways.

Shuddering, she tucked the thought away, unable to cope with such a confrontational memory. Even three years on, it hurt to think about. It haunted her every waking minute, always just pooling below the surface. The first sound of thunder or the wicked crack and blast of white lightning would transport and bury her in the past where rivers swelled and flooded the streets. Rainwater would fill her throat until she recalled every minute detail. The flashing of blue and red lights and that heavy knock at the door, too late at night to be anything other than bad news. The clarity of how she recalled everything surprised her; she could still remember the police officers with sullen looking faces who caught her when her knees gave way.

Since then, he refused to come home even when his physical injuries healed. The damage was done; an internal struggle bested the both of them now. No matter how much she begged, he would not relent, stubborn as ever, citing it did not bode well with him to leave the only familiar place to him.

Gnashing her teeth together, she shook her head and clambered through the door, opening it with a gentle nudge of her hip. The tips of her fingers were red and cold but the facility was one of the finest treatment centres in the area. A luxury recovery centre that spared no expense and so heat filtered from heaters dotted throughout the space.

Maz sat at reception, taking her in with wide, round eyes and pursed lips.

“Feeling better, I hope?”

Rey did not miss the high arching of her brow, almost accusatory in manner and how her smile did not quite meet her eyes. The woman saw too much, she knew things and likely believed that the last scheduled visit was cancelled for a less than genuine reason.

Determined not to meet her keen eyes, Rey instead focused on the homemade bangles decorating the woman’s arms as she signed in, hesitating for a split second before she mustered the courage to form her second name in ink. It bled into the white, splotchy chicken scratch.

“Yeah, half of the town was wiped out with the flu, couldn’t be helped.”

“Well, you’re here now. You know where to find him.”

Feeling thoroughly like a scolded child and not a woman of twenty-five years of age, she nodded, mostly to herself and began the journey to his room. It was a route she could have navigated blind; she had walked it too many times to count, once with a spring in her step but now, not so much. Her steps were little more than a slow crawl to the beat of a slow drum. The walls were painted a pale blue, so close to white but not quite. Everything was spotless, unlike back home on the farm where clutter ruled.

In the back of the facility, away from everyone else, was his room.

The soft notes of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Free Bird,’ drifted under the doorway, spilling into the corridor, washing it with the ballad’s rustic tune. It had always been one of Ben’s favourites, plucked from afternoons where he would work with Han restoring his beloved Ford Falcon.

Those summer days brought all kinds of memories forward. Ben painted head to toe in grease and oil, his white t-shirt ruined and covered in dark stains but she could never scold him, his easy smile made her forget her line of thought. Fingers would hook in the belt loops of her low riding jeans and tug, pulling her to him, dirtying her in the process.

Rey had to catch herself, her fingers pressed against the wood and her heart lodged firmly in her throat. It was all too much but it was too late to sneak away.

_“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”_

_You did leave_ , she thought bitterly, suddenly filled with hot spite. You don’t remember _me_ , you forgot me as if I was _nothing, no one._

Against her better judgement and after a rap of her knuckles against the door, a muffled reply rose just enough above the music so she stepped inward.

Unable to help herself, she immediately sought him out, desperate for more than what awaited her. How long had it been since he touched her? Like always, he did not move to greet her and instead watched her from where he sat on his armchair nestled in the corner of the room.

With the silence, it was nearly easy to pretend that everything was well. There was nothing outwardly different about him except the length of his hair and the pink, faded scar bisecting his face. Nightmares of him unconscious with bandages soaked with blood covering said scar plagued her. She could never escape the unnatural way his chest rose and fell when machines had to breathe for him and keep him alive.

Blunt nails bit into her palms.

“Your hair’s getting long,” she offered in way of a greeting.

“I prefer it that way.”

Ben did not.

To cover his ears, he would keep it on the lengthier side but he always ensured he trimmed it and kept it out of his eyes.

“Ben.”

“It’s Kylo,” he retorted, quick as a whip.

“I’m not calling you by that name-”

“-it’s the one _I_ chose-”

“-it’s not the name your mother gave you so I won’t be calling you by it, just drop it, I’m not in the mood today.”

It was wrong of her to release her pent up frustrations on him but she slipped and it was fast becoming a regular occurrence. It was not easy to face him.

She dropped her face into her hands and heaved out a sigh. Times like these, she thought it might have been easier to lose him all together, at least then she would not have to deal with a ghost of him taunting her, always just out of arm’s reach.

They suffered through the same argument every month regarding his name. Sometimes it went on for the duration of the visit, sometimes she relented and let that wrong sounding name leave her lips, feeling like hot ash on her tongue. This time, he seemed to surrender and gripped the armrests of his chair, averting his gaze back to the window and the streaks of rain dripping down it.

They remained quiet for a while. With slow, purposeful movements, she shed her coat and hung it on the back of her seat. When sat back, never able to fully recline or relax, she clasped her hands over her lap and eyed the toes of her converse sneakers.

Shivers wracked through her, the sleeves of her sweater were pulled tight and over her hands but the rain left her hair wet so she could not escape the cold, even more frigid than the frosty cold front lingering between them.

“Here,” she had not noticed him stand or leave the room but a white, fluffy towel was offered to her. As they did with most things, his hands dwarfed it.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

Their fingers brushed against each other for the briefest of seconds. The warmth felt like home, he was always so warm. Ben snatched his hand back as if burned, his eyes shifty and wide and so vulnerable but he recovered quickly, putting as much space as he could between them.

“Thank you,” she whispered, immediately settling into drying her hair. She bunched the towel and squeezed the ends of her hair, feeling considerably better.

“I wouldn’t want you to miss the next visit, it seems as if your immune system has taken a beating as of late,” he quipped, sitting back in his chair, appraising her.

Everyone saw right through her, even him.

Transparency frightened her.

His eyes burned bright, the ones she could have painted a thousand times from memory even if she went decades without seeing them. They were ingrained into her own eyelids; they might as well have been her own.

It almost happened, she never thought they would open again all those years ago. A horrible whisper emerged in her head, quiet and dark, the one who wished they had stayed shut. Because when he did open them, someone else stared back at her.

Some part of her recognised and acknowledged that this whole ordeal was not easy on him but her patience had run out long ago. It did not help that he seemingly possessed no real desire to recall his past or memories.

“Things have been busy on the farm; it’s hard to get away sometimes.”

“Save your excuses, Rey. You don’t want to be here so why bother. Leia pays for all of this and makes sure I’m cared for.”

“You know why I come.”

“You still cling to the hope that one day I’ll suddenly remember everything. That I’ll wake up and be your husband again.”

Rey’s eyes burned with hot tears. He knew exactly how to force such visceral reactions out of her. Both of them hurt the other, it helped in an odd way but it was toxic, she knew it. She told herself it was a gift that she could argue with him, it had to have been better than never talking to him again.

“Ah, you do,” he murmured, sitting forward, he elbows rested upon his knees.

Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore his attempt to rile her. Since the beginning, he had tried to make her give up on him and back then, she fought him every step of the way but her resolve was waning, her hope dimming with every day that slipped by.

“Please, be quiet,” she muttered, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeves.

They made eye contact and she searched, just as she always did, for something, a sign, anything to show her he was still there but a glassy vacancy greeted her.

“Don’t look too long, you might not like what you find.”

Rey worried her bottom lip between her teeth, like always, she retreated into herself, and ended her search.

Ben tapped his fingers against the armrest until he swallowed hard, the sound of it reaching her from across the room.

“Sometimes I dream of you. Of times when I must have loved you.”

“You did love _me_.”

“I’m not him, not anymore.”

“I know.”

The weary admission took its toll, she stood and began to pace around the large room. The record player in the corner still played on and the rain still beat against the glass. The one thing that seemed to overcome the amnesia was Ben’s love of art.

As soon as he woke up, it was obvious he retained it and he had never stopped displaying that passion since. Black fingertips always dirtied every surface, just like those days when he worked on the falcon. Charcoal drawings lay littered about almost every inch of the room, some nothing more than heavy-handed scribbles and jagged lines, others were of people. The most prominent figure who made the most appearances was her.

She lifted the crumpled paper and stared down at the rendition of her face, dozens of them took up the white sheet, all plastered with the same sad expression.

“In my dreams you smiled,” his breath fanned against her exposed neck.

 _You used to smile too,_ she wanted to say.

If she was being honest with herself, she could not remember the last time she felt any kind of happiness worth smiling about. Now, he was so close, his hands planted on the tabletop on either side of her, effectively caging her in and with his mouth at her ear.

Before the accident, he enjoyed being near her with little space between them, a day away from her would leave him touch starved and hungry for her. But she did not know what motivated the stranger behind her, the one hiding in her husband’s body, one so different to the man she loved but also so alike.

His fingers brushed against the ring he once wore, the one dangling around her neck like a noose. They strummed along to the beat of the song sounding behind them. Charcoal stained fingertips left fingerprints on the precious ring, leaving a part of himself there.

“Won't you fly high, free bird?”

Overwhelmed, she dropped the drawing, trembling.

She opted for flight.

Withholding a cry, she dipped under his arm, gathered her jacket and left without a backward glance.


	2. When You’re Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly some more insight on what happened to Ben and how Rey copes.
> 
> It also introduces Leia into the mix.

**THEN**

The beeping of machines acted as a soundtrack to her life for three long months. In that time, she spent most of her days hunched over his hospital bed, waiting for a sign, anything to tell her that he was fighting behind his closed lids.

The man she had loved as long as her memory served was a fighter, so there was never any doubt that he was clawing his way back to her.

The argument had been over something so little, so utterly inconsequential. When he walked out of the door with a mumbled, “I love you, I just need to clear my head, I’ll be back later,” she thought nothing of it.

He never did come back.

He had never walked out on her like that but things had fast become heated, she threw and smashed her favourite plate which quickly fuelled her tears. At the time, she appreciated that he insisted on cooling off elsewhere. It gave her time to reflect without worry or his influence.

The cops knocked on the door only a few hours later, lightning in the sky and rain on their backs and her world was never the same.

She barely left his hospital room, still clinging to his last words, that he would be back later. His car had swerved off the road and rammed straight into a tree. The roads were seemingly too slick and they guessed he overestimated his turn.

The guilt ate away at her and gnawed at her spirit in the quietest of moments. If they had not fought, he would not have been driving out in that storm. To occupy herself, she dreamed up scenarios of how they would be okay once he woke up. Sometimes, she told herself he was merely sleeping and she just woke up first. That was a dream and reality soon turned into a nightmare.

His fingers moved first.

It was the littlest of movements, a small jolt against her own but enough to send her scrambling to her feet and out of her seat. After a few quick taps of the button to summon assistance, she swarmed him, cupping his jaw as his eyes opened.

“I love you, oh I love you,” she cried out.

Ben blinked and tilted his head.

“Who are you?”

**NOW**

Rey jolted awake.

The cotton sheets below her were drenched in sweat and so she rolled over, desperate for the reassurance that came with wrapping herself around her husband. Seeking his warmth, she trailed her fingertips to his side of the bed and shuffled forward.

“Ben,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

The realisation washed over her like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on her. It happened sometimes. Swept up in sleep, she floated in blissful ignorance as awareness finally caught up to her, sinking its hooks in for another day. The worst times were waking nightmares and when her mind conjured up fantasises. Like when she was elbows deep in her flowerbeds, donning one of his baggy shirts and she heard his voice from inside, singing along to the radio or his footsteps approaching her from behind.

Each time, with no consideration spared to all the times she had been burned, she allowed herself to believe for a moment that he was home, that he was Ben again, her childhood sweetheart turned husband. Not only that, he was her closest friend, her most trusted of confidantes and partner in life. They were supposed to grow old together and live out their dreams with the other by their side.

The contrast between past and present was startling, she could not even look at him now or spill her secrets in hushed whispers between kisses. There was nothing left to say, there was nothing she could say.

The vacant space beside her presented her own kind of personal hell. He was still gone. The tick of the bedside clocked served as a countdown, preparing her for the outburst simmering just below the surface. For the longest time, denial had been her coping mechanism, unhealthy as it was but acceptance loomed and threatened to swallow her up whole with its sharp teeth. It nipped at her flesh from time to time.

Accepting he was lost to her was a finality that felt unnatural, the kind so perverse it would make her rot from the inside out if she even considered it.

In the night, she felt so utterly helpless and vulnerable and alone. During the day, it was easier to fill her time with work and in turn, busy her mind. Calloused hands made for a blank mind, filled only with the details of her labour. If only she could fill the gaping wound in her chest. It started off small, a pinprick, but now it felt like the stranger, Kylo, could fit his fist in it and tear her heart out if he wished it so. It was already in his clutches, all he had to do was tug it out.

The clock ticked once more before she began to thrash about, kicking her blankets away from her as she muffled her hoarse screams with the back of her fist. Hard knuckles jutted against her teeth until she tasted blood.

The shrieks acted as her lament. One unheard and hidden but louder than all the rest.

When it was over and she was left only with shame, she pulled herself across the mattress like a wounded animal that escaped the slaughterhouse. There was still hurt but she lived, she breathed and she survived using any means available.

Falling apart at the seams, she finally curled herself around his pillow. It had not been washed since the accident, it was not fresh or particularly clean but otherwise unused. Refusing to wash it seemed sensible to her. If she closed her eyes just right and inhaled, she could still smell him. The pine from his aftershave and sweetness from the apricot lotion he used religiously. A bottle still sat on his bedside table gathering dust. But underneath it all, there was something undoubtedly Ben. The unmistakable scent of him like after he finished work for the day and collapsed into bed, too tired to wash until the morning.

The bed squeaked as she rocked.

If only Ben could see her now.

Would he have looked at her with sorrow and pity? Cringe at how his wife was so close to the cliff-edge when he still breathed and lived in the cruelest of fates?

She liked to think he would understand her rituals. That the ghost like fingers that sometimes tousled her hair on a particularly breezy day was him, telling he was proud and to just hold on for a little longer, just a few more days, a few more years. Maybe the rest of her life.

The mattress dipped as purring filled the silence. Murray, their beloved cat, trotted over, eagerly nudging at her calves. His whiskers tickled and she found herself suddenly calm, focused entirely on something else rather than herself.

“Come here,” she whispered, clicking her fingers by her hips.

The cat, almost as if he could sense her need for distraction, hurried along over to her and settled by her belly, curling up against her warmth.

He nuzzled the pillow, likely smelling Ben. When he never came home, the cat wandered around the house for hours on end, meowing late into the night. In the morning, she would find him curled up on the doormat or inside the hamper, buried under a heap of Ben’s clothes that she had yet to wash.

How could she explain to a cat that he was not coming home? He still ran to the door whenever someone visited, likely in the hope that it would be his daddy, so tall and broad but who would kneel to his eye level, cup his face and give him a kiss before he even offered one to Rey.

“You miss your daddy, don’t you?”

When she scratched his ears, she could have sworn his head dipped in answer, a silent yes.

“I miss him too.”

* * *

On every second Sunday, Leia and Han visited. Although Leia was a self professed workaholic, she still deemed Sunday a day of rest and seemed intent on ensuring that Rey managed to sit still, even for an hour. They had both played a huge part in her life, her adopted mother, Maz, had known Han since her teens so it was only natural for them to come together when they both had kids. The bond only strengthened when Rey and Ben soon found themselves inseparable. A part of her had always loved him and always would.

“You look tired.”

Her mother-in-law did not beat around the bush. With pursed lips she examined her with those keen, eagle like eyes and again, Rey felt so utterly see-through. Why could she not hide her pain like everyone else? It made her feel vulnerable like a mirror whose cracks were on show for all to see.

They were sat at the kitchen table and nursing twin cups of coffee, steaming hot and fresh from the stove. Han was elsewhere, likely in the living room and fiddling with the archaic television. They were quite similar, non vocal and passive in their grief, two salt of the earth people who should have known better.

“I didn’t sleep very well.”

“That’s not the tiredness I’m speaking of.”

Suppressing a sigh, Rey sipped some of her coffee, loaded with enough sugar to kill a dog. Not knowing how to respond, she simply shrugged her shoulders and feigned indifference.

Each conversation seemed to revolve around pieces of her life that she was unwilling and not ready to address. The denial, for the most part, kept her blissfully ignorant but also able to fight another day. That was the most important aspect, it fuelled her hope, made it fiery and she was hesitant in letting anyone douse it with truths that could render her fragile.

A bunch of wilting forget-me-nots sat in the space between them. The irony of the flower was not lost on Rey. Unlike the flower’s name, she had been forgotten and their fragrant plea was lost on Ben. Despite that, each week without fail, she bought a bunch from the flower stall at the farmer’s market and lost herself in the indigo and violet hues. Sometimes for hours at a time.

“No one would blame you for letting go-”

“-You sound just like him!” Rey hissed like a snake burned and ready to strike.

The retort was sharp and maybe laced with too much venom.

“I listen to him, Rey. Despite how he acts, he wants the best for you.”

It made her scoff and laugh sardonically. Despite what everyone thought, she was not deaf and heard his musings firsthand but it was a pill she would never swallow because he was not thinking straight.

If he wanted the best for her, he would fight with all the might inside him. But from the beginning, he showed no signs of any kind of inner battle. Why did he not fight for her? Or fight harder? Why was she the only one raging a war to keep him with her in any way she could?

After a few minutes, she collected herself and sat straighter, picking away at the chip in her mug.

“He pushes me away. Why does he do that?” She whispered, feeling the weight of Leia’s hand come down to rest on her own.

It was hardly comforting.

Leia pinned her to her seat with those eyes, mirror images of Ben’s. It hurt to look at her.

“Somewhere, deep inside, you already know the answer to that question.”

Rey felt the beginnings of cold, stinging grief climb up her throat. Biting back a sob, she vehemently shook her head. Textbook denial. Leia remained resolute and firm so she tore her eyes away from her and closed them, wishing she was somewhere else.

“You know it’s not Ben looking back at you, no matter how much you tell yourself that he is. Kylo knows he can never be that for you, he can’t be Ben. When I look at him, when I look into his eyes, I see a frightened boy, a lost one. One who can’t make you happy and pretend he is someone he isn’t anymore.”

The words bruised her heart and made it painful to even breathe. The man who resided in her husband’s body broke her heart, Ben did too but she didn’t want him to fade away, she wouldn’t allow it. It made her a slave to heartache even though she knew she did not have to bleed so much. Rationally, she knew she could sever the ties and free herself and try to start anew but it never seemed like a viable option.

“No, he’s still in there. I know it, I can feel it.”

If she said it enough, she could make it true.

“It’s been three years, Rey. I wanted him back for so long but I had to accept that Ben’s not coming back. You’re holding on to a ghost and the person in his place and it keeps Kylo from moving forward. You’re stopping him from living a new life.”

How dare she.

With a snarl, she stood, feeling angrier than she had ever felt before. The table rattled in the process.

The vase full of forget-me-nots clattered to the ground and smashed against the kitchen floor. Water and petals flew out and shards of glass decorated the floor.

“I’m not giving up on him!” Rey shouted.

Leia approached her with her hands raised up as if in surrender with eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. Any other time, it would have sickened Rey to have caused that kind of hurt in a woman she called ‘mother,’ but she had been blindsided by her words. It felt like an attack and so she pulled up all her defences.

“It’s not about giving up on him, my sweet girl. It’s about setting the two of you free.”

It stung. What was life without him? He was all she knew.

Leia pulled her into her arms despite her weak protests and managed not to flinch when she began to wail and tears soaked her dress.

“I love him. I can’t let him go.”

“Rey-”

“He would do the same for me, he would wait forever and I’ll do the same for him.”

“Please-”

“Leave…please, just leave. I need to be alone,” Rey said, stepping away.

All of her anger dissipated but the hurt remained. She readied herself on the countertop, needing to lick her wounds in private. It would take some time for her to recover from this. To her surprise, after a few silent minutes of obvious indecision, Leia did leave, ushering Han along, whispering an excuse about suddenly not feeling well.

When they were gone and she was alone, her walls crumbled and she slumped against the kitchen cupboards.

Everyone had accepted the unacceptable.

It was hard to stomach, let alone fathom or wrap her mind around.

The ringing of her phone broke her reverie.

No matter how much she wanted to hide, she did the opposite and stood on weak legs. After plucking up the device, she swiped the answer button.

“Hello?” She sniffed, sitting once again, mindful to avoid the mess on the floor. With her freehand she swiped at any remaining tears.

She would need to clean the forget-me-nots and buy some new ones as soon as possible.

“It’s me.”

Ben.

She stopped breathing.

“Kylo,” he clarified.

“Oh.”

“Are you planning to attend the visit tomorrow?”

The visit had admittedly skipped her mind and she wanted to cancel again to give her some time to put herself back together but he was right there and it felt wrong to deny him.

Maybe he expected her to say no.

“Yes.”

His breath hitched.

“Well, colour me shocked.”

The jab was nothing more than she deserved.

“Unless you want me to stay away?” She quipped back.

“It’s up to you what you do.”

“It seems like you want me there, otherwise you wouldn’t have called.”

That seemed to silence him.

“Am I wrong?” She pressed.

His sigh was loud and weary.

“I just wanted to check you were coming so I wouldn’t be sitting around waiting for you.”

Just like how she sat around waiting for him for three years.

“I’ll be there.”

Another stale silence followed until he cleared his throat.

“Can you bring a movie for me? I can’t stop thinking about it, I keep recalling images of a yellow taxi cab.”

Without him having to elaborate any further, she knew exactly what movie he was referring to. Scorsese’s ‘Taxi Driver.’

It was Ben’s favourite movie.

Was it a sign? That he was still there and coming through in different ways?

“Yes, I’ll take it in for you,” she breathed out, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Thank you, I’ll guess I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

After a sharp intake of breath and a muffled curse, he abruptly hung up.

It startled her. That endearment had always fell so easy from Ben’s lips but she had not heard it in years.

It gave her hope.

Then there was the movie.

“You talking to me?” She wondered aloud, quoting the infamous line from the movie as her eyes fell upon her wedding picture.

With trembling hands, she picked it up, her gaze falling over Ben in his suit and his hands wrapped around her waist as he pulled her in for a kiss.

“Are you talking to me?” She whispered quietly.

Maybe he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support for this wee angsty fic of mine.
> 
> I want to apologise for not being able to answer the comments on the first chapter. I was swept up in finishing another fic but I will be replying to the comments from now on so feel free to ask me any questions or leave your thoughts.
> 
> Sorry for the lack of Ben/Kylo in this one but I promise the next three chapters will be all Ben/Kylo & Rey moments. And some goodness/lighter moments.
> 
> We also have art for the next chapter!
> 
> Remember, I promise a happy ending 🖤


	3. Just Hold Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to AvaMarga for gifting me the art in this chapter. 
> 
> I treasure it 🖤
> 
> If you want to see more of her beautiful art, you can find her on Twitter [AvaMarga](https://twitter.com/avamarga_)

The traffic and weather had nearly made her late.

The combination of the two had tested her last nerves and at one point, she was ready to turn around, retreat back home to the farm and feign illness. Sleep had not come easy, not while her mind conjured up the possibilities and likelihood of his memories returning to him.

The snippets that had reappeared to him seemed so trivial and lacking in much importance but it was a spark that she wished would light a fire and bring him back to her.

Hope could not blind her entirely, the conscious and most rational side of her mind kept her grounded. Over the years, she had taught herself not to put her faith in minute details that inevitably strung her along and guided her to dead ends. 

It was raining.

The sun never seemed to shine on the days she was due to visit him. 

Once or twice, she let it deter her and make her think too much since she still suffered on rainy days, forever reminders of Ben’s accident. It never kept her away. Instead, she would focus especially on her driving and sink all her concentration into it. The rules of the road were something she felt herself well versed in. If she dwelled too much, she would sometimes see the images of his car, a hunk of metal only good for scrap and him in a hospital bed with tubes down his throat.

Despite the rain, it was warm. There was no need for any heat in the car and a few miles just outside of town, she had to strip her cardigan off, leaving her in her favourite off the shoulder top. The fabric was dyed a rich violet in colour, a homemade creation that always set off the tawny glow of her skin. Outdoor farm work always ensured a year round tan, it was one of the things Ben loved about her.

On summer days, he would kiss any exposed skin and freckles on show. It always took him longer to tan, his pale skin always burned first and before she let him leave the house, she would smother him in sun-lotion, press a kiss to his lips and send him on his way. 

Days like those seemed like a lifetime ago.

Days like those seemed liked they would never come again.

Once she pulled up at the facility, she made sure to check her bag to ensure the movie was still safely inside. The anxiety of the visits always hit its peak in the carpark so she sat back and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in tune with the rain dotting her windscreen. Arriving early always ensured she could complete her routine and talk herself into facing him.

That line of thought always terrified her. Knowing Ben had been as easy as breathing. Recalling a time she did not want to see or be around him was an impossibility but that was before the accident, before he was lost to her.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, she threw her jacket over her head, grabbed her bag and sped walked towards the entrance of the facility, mindful to sidestep the deepest of the puddles. A few patients were dotted about clutching colourful umbrellas, all with happy smiles and for the briefest of moments she stilled, wondering if when she was not around, if Ben smiled, if he wanted to have his own life without her.

Could she let him go and let him live his life as Kylo? Likely not. Maybe it was selfish of her and she would gladly admit that. It made her feel like a human anchor, willing to drown the both of them instead of letting either surface.

A car honked in the distance and she shook her head, unwilling to walk down that path where vicious roots would make her stumble and forget herself. If the circumstances were reversed, Ben would wait for her, always.

Maz greeted her with a smile and a not so subtle wink. It startled her to some extent, the woman seemed quietly excited.

It meant she was pleased Rey had not cancelled. If only she had known how close she had been to doing that. After shaking her jacket free of rain and hanging it up, she signed in without too much words exchanged and took off towards Ben’s room.

The toes of her ballet flats scuffed against the hardwood flooring a few times as she rubbed her eyes and pushed her hair away from her face. It was damp but nowhere as soaked as the prior month. She knocked and entered when he replied and completed her usual dash from the door to her seat, all the while not making eye contact. 

Admittedly, she feared she would fight against reason and stare at him only to find no flicker of recognition, just a blank, emotionless stare of someone tired of her incessant and needy presence in his life. 

When she did muster the courage to look at him, she found him staring off out the window, the rain shadowed his face with dark streaks. There, he seemed at peace and she wondered if he thought of the accident and if any flashes of screeching tires and bending metal haunted him like it did her. She hoped not. 

“You cut your hair.”

Without much thought, she closed the distance between them and tentatively brought fingered the strands. It was shorter and neat, just like Ben kept it. It still covered his ears. Her nails skimmed his scalp and she applied pressure to the areas she knew that Ben loved, losing herself in the moment. It felt intimate and tender, something so familiar but also new like the blossoms in spring after a long winter.

A low moan broke the quiet.

One that did not leave her own lips.

The way his eyes cast up towards her locked her in place.

Ben caught her wrist before she could continue and slowly brought it between them. The cracks in his façade had never appeared so apparent. He looked so utterly vulnerable, his eyes wide and lips mashing together. Then his jaw grew taut but still, he refused to break the hold on her wrist. Quite like how she refused to break her hold on him, to Ben.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked to touch you,” she mumbled, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as his rejection set in.

“Yes, you should’ve.”

She was the one to surrender. His fingers were blisteringly hot around her wrist but she tugged herself free, hating how wrong it felt to do so. Ben sighed, falling back against the high back of his chair, this time keeping his gaze trained solely on her. His fingernails dug into the armrests. 

It was a change.

Looking at the other had been a rarity in the last couple of years. When she was able to, she sought out her husband and found Kylo in his place. Each time, his eyes narrowed as if in frustration at being overlooked. Sometimes she wondered if he detested her. Had he really spoke to Leia about how she held him back from living a new life? 

The topic was something she would need to address one day. There was only so long it could remain buried. The man was a fighter and she had no doubt he clawed at her heavily constructed walls, willing her to really look at him.

Her bravery shrunk like shadows at high noon.

When she sat back on her seat, crossing her feet at the ankles, she was still able to recall the feel of his hair between her fingertips and the heavy press of his calloused fingers on her wrist. Both were familiar, almost forgotten comforts.

Instead of basking in their return, she felt like a scolded childhood with sticky fingers. It irked her but she swallowed down any bitterness, blinked a few times and heaved out a sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,” he retorted.

It felt wrong to nod in agreement with his words because no matter the reason, she was glad he touched her. If she could, she would let him map her out with his fingertips and pin her with his brazen stare for as long as he wanted. He could learn her again, memorise every curve and freckle, every dip and bone. A twinge of guilt niggled at the forefront of her mind. It felt like an unfaithful thought but surely, Ben and Kylo were one of the same to some degree. A man with one heart that was promised to her long ago.

To fill the silence, she kneeled by the television and put on the movie she had taken with her. All the while, Ben watched her like a hawk. The movie began to play and she settled into her seat, not bothering to watch the movie unfold. It felt ingrained into her mind at that point.

With it came some relief, Ben steered his attention towards it, resting his chin in his palm. There were new drawings of her on the green walls. Some chaotic and dark, others simpler or half finished but all kept her as the focal point. One in particular caught her attention. In it, she smiled, there were no signs of sadness or regret. Only light, eyes full of longing but a smile that said she was happy.

“In my dreams, you smiled,” he had whispered to her the last time she visited.

The idea of him dreaming about her did things to her she would never utter aloud. Perhaps in his dreams, they both smiled together.

When she peered back at him, she found him engrossed in the movie, mouthing along to the dialogue he had long memorised. Unlike Ben, he was quiet about it, tentative as if testing the words on his tongue in case he slipped or remembered them incorrectly.

For the first time in a long time, she smiled, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes until she could not contain them any longer. Though she brought her palm to her mouth, it was too late. 

Ben disregarded the movie and rose up, concern etched deep on his face. He stood there, seemingly contemplating for a brief moment but he did not leave her waiting, he strode across the room as if it was the most natural thing to do. Like two magnets meant to collide, at least once in a while.

She got to her feet, ready to fall apart and crumble but she had to reach out, hands outstretched towards him.

“Please, hold me. Just for a minute, I…I just need something,” she begged.

He did not answer her with words but instead ushered her to him with a gentle grip on her shoulders. It all came back to her, his smell, his warmth and so she gripped the front of his black sweater, fisting it and looped the other around his middle. When she leaned her face against his chest, his heart was there to meet her. It beat hard, so fast she feared that it might stop all together if it kept up its rapid pace.

The tears that followed were ones from many places. The overwhelming sense of relief of being near him in such a capacity was responsible for the majority of them. It made her never want to let go of him again. It made her want to go back in time and instead of letting him leave, tug at his wrist and refuse to let him walk away.

Then there came the sadness, the one that eclipsed this beautiful moment years in the making. It would end. He would pull away from her and return to being the man who wished to repel her like a wasp that served no real purpose but to cause pain.

It choked her up and so she clung to him, pressing her nails harder into the black fabric and cried freely but not as hard. A resignation washed over her and she decided she would bask in whatever he would offer. 

His breathing hitched and then she felt wetness seep into her scalp. It flowed slowly at first and she realised he was crying, openly weeping in front of her and letting his guard down for the first time since he woke up. A man with the same eyes but a different heart.

It meant more than words, how he allowed himself a quiet moment of vulnerability around her and so she clung to him tighter, nuzzling into his sweater so she could just feel him. If only for a moment.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Rey.”

The wedding ring around her neck felt heavy again.

But she said nothing, mindful one word could turn his heart into stone and make him release his hold on her. 

The two stood there in silence, each shedding their share of tears as warmth bloomed in her chest.

The hole in her heart did not seem as big.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with this fic, my health has not been great lately but I am slowly getting back into the swing of things.
> 
> I hope to update every two weeks as I now have 3 WIPS but if I can manage sooner, I will.
> 
> Dare I say the next two chapters will contain some tender moments? The next one, Rey poses for Kylo. 
> 
> And chapter 5...some fun.
> 
> Much love, Alba 🖤
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/AlbaStarGazer)


	4. Paint It Black

The next visit came around quickly.

The month breezed by instead of dragging like a slow crawl.

Due to the time of year, most of her work revolved around making use of extra produce and funnelling them into different exports. Instead of most of the produce being sold at the market, she kept a small chunk of it and hid away indoors, taking full advantage of the demand for natural products, like soap and ointments.

When she finally made it to the facility, she did so with the scent of tangy oranges slathered on her hands. The citrus scent followed her and by then, she was sure she had perfected her hand cream formula. 

The door to Ben’s bedroom was shut, just as it always was. The opening notes of The Rolling Stone’s ‘Paint It Black,’ drifted out underneath the gap in the door and outside into the hall.

Before she could even tap her knuckles against the door, it swung open and there was Ben with charcoal smeared along his jawline and cheekbones. The white of his shirt was also smothered in drawn out finger marks, dark impressions along his middle and front.

The eagerness of her arrival was not missed on her and with it, came a hot blush she was sure stained her cheeks in her own brand of colour. The last visit between them felt like a step forward instead of back, the two, while remaining mostly stagnant, lost static between frequencies, had come to a silent agreement to not speak of what happened. 

But that did not mean either could forget their embrace and baring of hearts.

The phone-calls between them had become a regular fixture in her life. On a Friday, she would settle down into bed with a glass of wine. With Murray curled up on her lap, purring softly and Ben’s voice in her ear. Sometimes, she would put him on loudspeaker so the cat could hear him and know that his daddy was still around.

No coldness filled his eyes that day.

For that, she knew she was lucky.

The way he observed her, with his lips slightly parted and the curve of a smile ghosting them, it felt like home, as if time and distance did not separate them. It felt like a thousand yesterdays were erased with that simple gesture and they were themselves again and that fiery spit of hope within reignited hotter and brighter than before.

“Are you okay?” She prompted, taking him in fully.

Both of hands curled around the doorframe while his upper half crossed the threshold and into her personal space. Before he could lean any closer, he caught himself, pulling himself to full height and taking a small step backwards.

“You’re late,” he tried, motioning to the clock that hung on the wall by the wide windows. The curtains were only slightly ajar but the room was bright due to the lights hanging from the ceiling. The mixture of artificial and natural light gave the space a warm glow.

She had missed his blunt attitude if she was being honest with herself.

“By a minute,” Rey quipped, rolling her eyes as she nudged past him and into the room and quickly found herself lost in a whirlwind of white sheets and sticks of charcoal.

It was as if a tornado raided a local arts store and dumped its findings in his room.

A stick of charcoal crunched underneath her shoe.

It almost confused her but he gave her no room to think, muttering and whispering to himself as he shut the door behind her and circled around her.

In some ways, she felt naked beneath his gaze.

Exposed like a roll of film held up to the light.

The circling continued and she followed him, not allowing him to inspect her fully to which he huffed out and stilled, narrowing his eyes with a tut of his tongue.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Since the last time she set foot in the room, his drawings had more than tripled. In one corner, a tower of moleskin sketch pads stood, the corners of their pages ruined and curled from his handling of them. It made her head spin, the sheer amount of work contained in such a confined space hardly seemed possible.

Blackened fingerprints had even found their way onto the wall.

No surface was left untouched.

And she was sure that those charcoal fingertips had touched her own heart and left their mark there too, painting it black but making it his.

It reminded her of times back at the farm in his art studio, a huge extension that both of them saved diligently for. Whenever he was inspired, he lived and breathed art. Like a man possessed, all he knew was a hunger for dark lines and bright lights.

If something inspired or consumed him, he would not rest until he perfected whatever kept him awake.

Sleep hardly mattered, his hands would still move on their own accord when he succumbed to exhaustion. It was as if even in his dreams, his muse followed him and urged him to create something that only he could see and turn the inside of his mind into a masterpiece, shielded away from it all.

It struck her, the similarity of those two disjointed points in time, both careening towards the same ending until they joined.

Two men blended into one.

“Can you do something for me? I’m well aware I have no real right to ask.”

The muscle under his eye twitched and instead of looking at her, his gaze fell to his bare feet as he thrust his fists into the deep pockets of his jogging bottoms.

Rey let the strap of her bag fall from her shoulder. It fell to the floor by her seat.

“You can ask me anything.”

For the longest time, he never delved too much into their lives once it past a certain point and he saw of it useless. No matter how he tried, he could not seem to pry or lift the heavy lid that contained the memories of a life he once lived. Soon after, he accepted himself as a blank canvas, something he could create something new from despite the faded lines Ben left behind, rubbed away by lightning, rain and metal.

“Could you pose for me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I can never seem to capture you right and it has been irritating me.”

The request seemed so simple but he had obviously been troubled or at least suffered with some kind of anxiety about asking her.

With a simple shrug or her shoulders, she nodded, edging closer to a stool placed in the middle of the room, mindful not to step on any paper strewn about despite it being near impossible.

“Is this where you want me?”

Ben nodded and for the first time in a long time, she saw him come alive for the briefest of moments. 

He smiled. 

And so she smiled back.

They had not smiled together like that in years and certainly not in the presence of the other. 

It felt like the turning of a page or the continuation of a story that remained untouched for three long years. 

As she sat, she noticed the tips of his ears were bright red but she swallowed her comment about that and perched herself on the stool, tucking her legs before she rested her hands on her thighs.

Though his canvas was turned away from her, she could have sworn she had seen a flash violet and indigo, like the forget me nots that played such an instrumental part of her own routine.

Back when they were younger, she had posed for Ben more times than she could count. Most were candid scenes, stolen moments he felt the need to make permanent and that was how she unknowingly became a new piece of art in his studio.

But this was different.

It felt intimate as if the air around them was charged despite feeling as if there was little of it, she fanned her face and breathed in.

“Relax,” he whispered and so she did.

“Is this okay?”

“Can I?”

Rey nodded.

Abandoning his spot behind the easel, he advanced, not bothering like she had to avoid stepping on crumbled paper and art supplies dropped, abandoned and forgotten.

The tip of his finger guided her chin upwards.

His face was so close to her own that she felt his warm breaths against her lips. Then his other hand came up, gently caressing her cheek and directed it to the side. It stirred something in her.

But then he retreated, leaving her statue still and mind frazzled.

“You smell nice.”

The compliment made her bristle for a moment. 

It was like night and day.

For years, he had been cold and in turn, so had she. For so long, he had tried to repel her or smother her persistence.

“Thank you, it’s a hand cream I made with some leftover oranges. I like to make things,” she whispered, palming the back of her neck.

“I didn’t know that about you.”

There was sadness laced in his tone. As if he loathed himself for not knowing something he was supposed to but he hid himself behind his canvas with a brief nod and clearing of his throat.

“You do now,” she offered and his fingers tightened around the canvas until his knuckles were white.

Then he dropped them, selecting a thick stick of charcoal and the sounds of sweeping lines and rough, coarse material meeting the canvas filled the quiet.

In a way, it was soothing.

Him wanting to draw her spoke volumes where his words always seemed to fail him.

The eyes behind the canvas were filled with something she recognised.

Desire.

It was the kind of look that sent the birds in the trees dreaming.

Every concentrated stare rushed straight to her heart and made it warm. 

She wanted to scold herself for not seeing it sooner but she had been blinded by his cold indifference that never really was indifference. No, it was the opposite and as she sat there, reflecting, it came to her that he must have wanted her but knew it was someone else she was holding out for.

And so bitterness overcame him.

“Why do you want to capture me just right?” She asked, dreading the answer before the words even left her mouth.

“What?” 

His eyes were not on her.

“You said you wanted to capture me just right. Why? Why do you need to do that?” She pressed, harder than she had ever done so before.

That made him still.

The charcoal clicked against the ledge of the easel as he placed it down. He rounded it, his fingers darker than before.

“I think you know.”

“No.”

“Do I need to spell it out, Rey?” He whispered, though the words sounded odd and strained, as if it pained him to say them aloud.

Without the use of words, she plead with him, rising to her feet as she thumbed the wedding ring around her neck, the one that should have been on his finger. It was more a habit than anything but it made his features darken, his brows drawn together and any traces of the smile that had graced his face earlier had all but disappeared.

“I draw you because one day, I know you will stop coming here.”

When she moved to protest, he raised his finger and pressed it to her lips, smudging black along the seam.

“I forgot you once but with my drawings, I will never forget you again.”

She shook her head while tears pooled in her eyes.

When he backed them into the wall, one hand planted down beside her face, caging her in and suddenly he was all she could see, feel and taste, the way it should have been.

“I feel the pull to you but when I try to remember any happiness shared between us, all I see is darkness. There is no light and no memories of you. And one day, that will break your heart and spirit. You will hate me and see that you can’t cling to the past anymore or wake a dead man.”

The tears flowed freely then and with the lightest of touches, he swept them away with his thumb, undoubtedly marking her some more.

The finger on her lips trembled before he dragged it down for a brief second. Just before she could muster her courage and touch him, he dropped both of his hands to his sides. The weary and defeated way he held himself up and told her he was tired.

But of what, she could not be certain.

When he took a step back, he swallowed hard and slow.

“I’m not giving up on you,” she breathed out, itching to silence him like he had her. Just so he would listen.

“You mean you’re not giving up on Ben.”

“You, I am not giving up on _you_.”

It frightened her.

Ben was there, she knew that.

But she saw Kylo too.

When she gazed at him, she did not know who looked back anymore.

There was one thing she knew for certain.

He was no longer a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe me if I said the next chapter is somewhat fun?
> 
> I really cannot thank you enough for all the support and beautiful comments.
> 
> I am behind with answering comments but trust me, I cherish each and every single one and often screenshot them and they really inspired me to write faster.
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/AlbaStarGazer)


	5. Bloody Kisses

Instead of waiting a month to see Ben again, she called and asked to see him a week later. It surprised him, she deduced that from his voice and the way he tried to play off his own eagerness with a casualness to cool to be genuine.

On the drive over, she bopped her head in tune to the music, she even increased the volume and sang along, unable to think too hard about the excitement making live wires of her veins. An unexplainable lightness had come over her, like the sun and calm sea after a storm and she planned to soak in it fully whilst she could. 

The spring in her step did not go unnoticed by Maz who grinned at her, a little more cheerily than usual as she winked and ushered her in to the facility. Sunlight streamed through the windows lighting her journey. It was warm against her skin, like a hug from a half forgotten friend. It manifested in her mood, nothing could tear the smile from her face.

Unlike all of her prior visits, his door was slightly ajar. Type O Negative boomed inside, the guttural, sensual tune of ‘Summer Breeze’ touched her and she was a kid again. ‘Bloody Kisses’ was an album Ben loved with a passion. It reminded her of times in the barn where she would sit in the front seat of the Ford Falcon as Ben worked under the hood. It would blare from the car stereo and he would sing along. As they grew, the tools were forgotten and he would kiss her so hard she named them bloody kisses though it was only a feeling. They were the kind of kisses that would leave her breathless and where neither were shy about using their teeth.

She wondered if she would ever experience a kiss like it again.

She wanted to bleed and bleed thoroughly for him.

Not in the same way she had bled for three years from a wound to the heart that had once showed no signs of healing. No, she wanted to bleed into him and feel like his wife. She wanted to feel his lips against her own and them being far from gentle. Tiny nips to the soul that would wake the both of them.

Mindful to keep her steps quiet, she tiptoed forward, nudging the door open with her knuckles, just enough so she could step inward.

The sight made her still.

Ben had his back to her.

He was topless, dressed only in a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Most of his exposed skin was covered in tiny specks of paint, little products of him flinging colours at a white canvas. As the song raged on, so did he, muscles straining below the skin as he continued to throw colour after colour and make the blank canvas into something beautiful, something of substance.

The way he moved was borderline enchanting, each rolling of his shoulder or side step was fluid and precise like he was one with the paint, boneless and free, just like flying. 

It felt intimate in a way she could not quite understand. As if she had walked into his mind and peeked inside. 

For a while, he was too distracted to notice her presence so she stood there, arms crossed around her middle, leaning against the wall and simply watched him. It brought a real heady sense of satisfaction. Seeing him candid and without the weight of her longing and expectation weighing him down was a refreshing and an unfamiliar sight.

It is only when the song came to a close did he notice her. She clearly startled him, he dropped the tins of paint that were dangling from his wrist and forearm. They hit the ground and sent splatters of colour over the white sheets protecting the hardwood flooring. 

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked, turning the tins of paint upwards.

“You’re usually quite strict with your timekeeping, I arrived right on time,” she smirked, gesturing to the clock hanging on the wall. 

Ben smiled and grabbed a cloth to wipe his hands with. The canvas behind him was messy and dark, blotches of red and black dominated the white but in all of it, a section remained untouched, covered in masking tape for safe keeping. Her fingers itched to uncover it but she already knew what she would find there, another portrait of herself as he painstakingly tried to capture her likeness. Even if he had to move away from the medium he was most comfortable in. Black charcoal still stained his fingertips below the paint, she was sure of that.

It hurt to think that he genuinely thought that one day she would just cease contact with him and cast him off as a lost cause. 

It was not in her nature, it went against the very core values of her heart and soul, especially when it concerned Ben.

“You couldn’t wait to see me,” he quirked his brow.

“If I’m not mistaken, you seemed quite eager for me to visit again.”

Ben dropped the cloth, discarding it on the table beside his canvas that was propped up by the easel, now decorated thickly in tiny flecks of colour. 

“I see you,” he murmured and she could have sworn her heart missed a beat.

He approached her slowly, seemingly uncaring about his state of undress and stopped a inch or two away from her.

“Can you see me?” He whispered.

Blinking, she gazed up at him, unable to control how her hands flew upwards so she could cradle his jaw and bring her down to him.

Being eye level with him was a whole new kind of experience.

It felt intimate and dangerous all wrapped into one feeling she could not name but whatever it was, it excited her.

But he bent willingly, accommodating her need to inch closer to him, to feel his warmth and the way his pulse quickened against her skin. It beat that way for her and her alone and for that, her own heart matched its tune for the first time in years.

“I see you.”

That seemed to light him up and before she could even think about the meaning of the words, he flicked his fingers at her face, covering her in paint.

He excavated himself from her greedy hold and challenged her, holding his arm up and ready.

“Did you really just do that?” She asked, faking righteous indignance.

Ben shrugged.

“That teaches you for sneaking up on me.”

Oh it was on.

Unlike him, she had her eyes on the prize. Laughing aloud, she raced to the tins of paint, unbothered by the fact that it would end in a ruined outfit, the memories made would outweigh the little details.

After scooping a handful of paint in her palm, she turned, trying to catch the excess that slipped down her wrist and through her fingers. 

What was the use of holding on? When she could strike and make a move instead of attempting to save her little palm full of colour.

Ben raised his hands, backing away from her but he kept one pointed in her direction. 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Without a care in the world, she rushed forward and flung the red paint at him, soaking his middle. It knocked him breathless for a split second, likely the shock of her action but he recovered quickly.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Ben had no qualms about wrecking her clothes or smearing her in colour so he lunged for her, to which she swiftly side stepped and flung herself across the room and onto his bed. 

He followed her, swarming her in seconds and breathing harshly. The two rolled, each fighting for top position, they always did this as kids and like then, Ben won, his sheer size and weight making quick work of whatever pretend fight she had in her.

They were both red faced when he pinned her, taking his place between her spread legs. It felt old and it felt new, like long forgotten jigsaw pieces meeting one another again after a lifetime apart.

Instinctively, she canted her hips and felt him, she felt how much she wanted her. There was no mistaking it. 

“Rey,” he moaned out.

Above her, his hair tickled her face but his dark eyes, blown and wide searched her own, as if begging for permission for something more despite how she showed her own want. 

He let her hands loose and she threaded one through his hair and planted the other on his bare stomach, so close to where she really wanted to touch him.

“Please,” she whispered and that is when she realised she was at her most vulnerable state, lost and torn between memories and dreams of the future.

They warped into one and they were all centred around him. She could not lose him, not again.

The first press of his lips against her own and rolling of his hips was gentle, almost hesitant like their first time. He tasted like mint, and wet hands palmed her ribs, exploring and marking her in ways she would never forget, in ways she needed him to never forget…not again.

It remained that way until a hot desperation set in, and she felt like his again, it grew heated and sloppy but in a way that still sent her careening over the edge. Each clashing of teeth and touching of tongues was like coming home.

And when he finally sucked her bottom lip and nipped, bringing blood to the surface, she was flying, nearly crying for her bloody kisses.

Blood found their love.

The taste of copper and him lingered on both of their lips just as he dragged his covered cock against her heated centre. The skirt she had been wearing had been hiked up long ago and her panties were soaked, only adding to the sweet sensation.

“Ben,” she breathed out.

He flinched against her, pulling back with a look that threatened to shatter her. It struck her then, the mistake she had made, calling him by a dead name.

“Kylo,” came another voice.

Leia stood at the door, eyeing them as Ben peeled himself away from her, panting in the cold silence.

It took all the courage within her to stand, wanting nothing more than to apologise for the slip of her tongue but he would not look at her, he put his cold front up again and she felt the numbness take hold of her.

“I didn’t know you would be here today,” Leia said carefully, eyes darting between the two.

“She was just leaving,” Ben muttered, stalking towards the window.

“Please-”

“-Just go,” he whispered, sounding too cold and tired to hear her out or ask her a third time.

He left no room for an argument so she fixed her clothes, scooped up her bag, keeping her eyes to the floor and left, feeling her heavy heart made of glass begin to crack.

A splinter of a wound, almost too deep, began to form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple are going to hurt and for that, I apologise but it is needed.
> 
> Also, I cannot thank you enough for all the support on this one. I treasure all your thoughts/comments.
> 
> Thank you 🖤


	6. I’m a Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short filler chapter to set up the next one.
> 
> *big hugs*
> 
> Not my best one but I wanted to get something out 🖤

The next time Rey visited, she was met by a rejection and harsh dismissal of her presence.

Despite her turning up at the usual allotted time, Ben refused to see her. The door remained locked long after the initial tentative knock. What she expected after how the last visited ended, she was not sure but it was not this. 

The door was like the barricade in both of their minds, the wall they had yet to smash so they could be together and build something new from the rubble. Except where there was once cracks in Ben’s walls…his façade, he had doubled down and made it fortress and now they were ironclad, seemingly impenetrable. 

But she knew all about waiting and how to chip away at walls. 

Life on the farm taught her how to pick out the old and welcome in the new. 

The truth was unkind and for years, she basked in denial and being wilfully blind but that was no longer an option.

The last visit’s events had been more than transformative.

Outside the door, she pressed her fingertips to her lips wishing them replaced with ones blackened.

Charcoal kisses.

A shadowed smile.

She closed her eyes, feeling salty tears pass and pool by her lips and slide further still.

If she concentrated hard enough she could still taste the sweet feel of his lips against her own that soon turned into desperate, hungry presses which burned her from the inside out. In turn, she ruined it and burned him with her slip up. The two names that rose to the tip of her tongue in the heat of the moment and she chose the wrong one.

The one she had known for years.

The one who had not been there, at least not fully, in years.

There were no songs playing or any signs of movement beyond the door and she stood there, slumped against it until she finally had to leave the facility, despondent and barely clinging to hope.

It did not stop her efforts.

It went on for months.

In that time, she reflected and realised her own mistakes but knew the key to moving forward was by sharing her side with him.

Every week, she would visit, with Maz informing her she could not leave the reception area. So she settled and sat there for hours on end, wishing he would come out and face her but he never did.

“You’ll tell him I was here?” She would question each time before she left.

“Of course,” Maz said, looking just as sad as she felt.

Before she made it to her car, a figure in her peripheral caught her attention. Despite the rain coming down on both of them, each stood perfectly still. Just let the rain fall down on them like it would cleanse whatever troubled them.

There was no mistaking who the lone man was, even from so far away.

It was him.

She rushed towards the facility garden, hands wrapping around the high iron bars when she could move no further.

“I made a mistake and now you won’t see me. You’ve given up!” she screamed above the rain, above the thunder and everything else.

He had his back to her but she saw how he shook. Could almost feel the weight on his shoulders for the first time since he woke.

“Look at me,” she shook, rattling the fence in the process. 

Shivers racked through her body. Her nose, cheeks and lips were numb but she remained frozen there with a determination years in the making. If she wanted him, she would need to fight and say her piece.

“I see you. But I also see him. Whether you like it or not, a part of him lives within you. You’re him. You’re you. I kept coming here despite how confusing it was. You pushed me away for so long that I was blind to your real feelings. Let me love you,” she begged, her voice failing her at the last second.

It hurt too much. 

That hollow feeling in her heart expanded with every rapid beat of the organ. From where she stood, she noted how his hands curled into fists, a white knuckled grip that contrasted with his dark clothing.

“You can’t expect me to forget him like he forgot me,” she whispered, shaking her head. It was so quiet that she wondered if he heard her but she would not get her answer.

With those simple set of words, he strode towards the facility, never once looking back at her. 

It made her want to run after him and make him feel what she was feeling, reveal all of her fears and hopes but she contemplated if it was too late. It seemed like that and for the first time in years, she felt lost and without an anchor to keep her grounded.

The ride home was a blur.

She should not have driven but she needed to be surrounded by a familiar setting, of a place so heavily ingrained with memories that she could bask in them. Drown in them. Let them swallow her up and offer comfort.

When she made it out of the car, she fell to the ground, landing on her hands and knees but she felt no real pain, she was focused on one thing entirely. She stormed towards the barn, only stopping at the entrance when her phone rang.

She did not want to answer but did so anyway. 

“Rey.”

It was Leia.

“He won’t see me, he’s refusing all my visits.”

“I know.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Rey, I’ve loved you all your life, I saw you as my daughter long before you married Ben. And this is why it hurts so much to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?”

“Kylo doesn’t want to see you anymore, Rey. He can’t go on like this.”

“He can’t go on like this? What about me? What about the both of us?”

Rey did not wait for a reply. She hung up, throwing her bag and phone on the work bench. If he wanted her gone, she would not go down without a fight but in that moment, all she could see was red and the loss of her husband for the second time.

She panted as she pulled the sheet away and off the Ford Falcon, untouched since Ben had last worked on it. She gasped when she touched the cool silver hood, half expecting him to roll out from underneath it and plant a kiss on her lips, smearing grease and oil all over her with his wandering hands.

That never happened. 

Instead, she grasped the baseball bat that she took from the bench and raised it high.

Her heart hammered in her chest but she was overcome with something else. While she could not hurt Ben, she could take out her own broiling emotions on something else. Something that was his.

The first blow came down with a sickening crack, sending splinters flying across the windscreen. Then from there, they did not stop, even when her hands grew slick with sweat and tears blurred her vision. 

In that quiet, confined space, all to be heard was her screams, borderline hysterical and the destruction of something so important to Ben.

There would be no more afternoons in the sun with stolen, bloody kisses and the sounds of tools and productivity. 

There would be no more adventures with her bare feet on the dash and his hand on her thigh as they tore across the country with no fear.

There would be no more them if he refused to see her.

She grunted, wailing like no human should as she launched the bat into the windscreen again until it caved in. Glass spilled everywhere. Her hands hurt. She thought she might be bleeding.

She crumpled to the ground, throwing the bat away from her before she could do more damage.

“What have I done?” She gasped, scrambling for control.

The Falcon was ruined. Perhaps beyond repair, another thing for her to mourn or despair about. 

Her throat felt raw, as if she could never mumble or whisper another word again. She sagged against the work bench, breathing hard. 

She could not tell how much time had passed but her phone began to ring. She did not want Leia to come out to the farm so she answered, hoping to keep her away.

“Now’s not a very good time,” she croaked out, peering at the destruction around her. 

When Leia did not reply, she looked down at the screen, surprised not to see her name but the number of the facility.

It was him.

It was like he knew what she did.

There was so much to say but she could not muster the strength to dip deep and unearth all her questions and words of reason. She settled on something different, something she ached to know. 

“Do you still dream of me?”

It was silent for a long time but she could hear his breathing.

“Every night.”

He hung up as soon as he answered her, leaving nothing but a droning dial tone behind. Her fingers grasped her phone as she felt her fight reemerge.

She would confront him in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next two chapters written (I just need to edit)
> 
> So I should update next week.
> 
> Now...bear with me. The next one is tough so gather your tissues but we are so close to the goodness. 
> 
> Since we are so close to the end, there might be a possibility of me adding an epilogue or two just to give you all some lighter stuff but I am undecided. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I am trying to do better with responding to comments so please feel free to leave your thoughts 🖤✨
> 
>  
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/AlbaStarGazer)


	7. Ready or Not

It was not too hard to sneak into the facility.

There was not much security due to the nature of the establishment. Residents were free to leave without restriction, day or night. The stay was voluntary and applicable to most cases and that included Ben’s.

She chose a late hour, one where few people were around. From previous observations, she noted that Maz tended to nap whilst watching old sitcoms around 10pm. That was how she crept in, tiptoeing past reception with a soundtrack of laughter at her back and Maz hunched over the desk, snoring softly.

Once she cleared that area, her determination began to wane. With every corridor cleared, the life seemed to drain right out of her. The quietness  
of it all made her reflect, her soul wept and her heart thumped on but she felt the cracks. Felt the hollowness and splinters in its walls. One more hit and it would shatter and leave a gaping wound behind that could never heal.

Her husband had won his fight.

The one that involved her loosening her hold on him until he fell away and her heart with him. That was something he could never give back, his pull on it cemented long ago.

A bitter laugh tore through her throat. 

That awful sound.

Devoid of humour and brimming with pain.

The walk was her own crude form of the green mile. 

The rain had seen to it that her clothes were soaked through, cold right to the bone. The chattering of her teeth was loud as she shivered and shook, though her blood felt hot and responsive. 

Now was not the time for fear or insecurity.

Her heart and future were on the line and it was long overdue. 

Once she picked herself up off the barn floor and lamented about the loss of the Falcon, she learned to push everything else away and drove until she reached the facility.

It was a spontaneous decision. There was no doubt that she looked like a horror, still wearing the same wet and rumbled clothes from earlier. Blood dirtied her fingertips and face where she accidentally cut herself. Just an unfortunate symptom of breaking through the windscreen but at the time, she was immune to that kind of pain. 

Physical and emotional turmoil battled and there was one victor. It made her numb to all else.

Still, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and scrubbed her face with the heel of her palms as she stumbled through the corridors. Every step was like walking on glass, like the remnants of the Falcon’s windscreen. Painful and jarring, it told of an imminent storm, like the one that night all of those years ago. Except this time, she was in the passenger’s seat, locked in place and waiting for the crash, ready for a collision, an imminent loss for the both of them.

It was like waiting for the lightning to strike.

And strike hard.

The quiet footfalls were more like thunder, her very own drum to which she marched towards battle to even though she was exhausted and had lost her fight, lost the war in extension. It made her tremble and dip her chin. Shaky breaths tumbled from her lips and even though she could breathe, it was hard to catch a decent inhale. 

All of her confidence dissipated, stolen away by the night and shadows when she reached a room secluded from the rest. One she was near terrified to enter.

Ready or not.

He might have hidden away for months but he could hide no longer. Not only was she preparing to confront him but she was ready to take a real good look at herself and her actions that lead to this moment.

It hurt to turn the mirror on herself and take a deeper look inside. Very few managed to do so with ease. Seeing your own wrongness took real courage. To make yourself flinch and address the flaws nestled inside that twisted your insides and leaked on outwards.

Her own toxicity was treating the man alive and in front of her as a ghost, a byproduct of a life once lived. A stranger that had snatched something that belonged to her.

That time, she did not knock.

Instead, she gripped the handle and flung it open, barrelling inside as she tried to heave in desperate little breaths but her chest was tight and cold dread trickled into her mind.

The room was lit solely by the full moon just beyond the window. The pale, blueish lit barely filtered through the half open curtains. 

“Rey,” Ben gasped, launching himself out of bed. 

It surprised her how quickly he closed the distance between them. The first time he showed any closeness to her in months.

As he approached, she huffed and really tried to find her voice. Instead she mouthed a few times, her lips gaping open but no sound leaving them.

So much for a final stand. A grand scheme to make him listen. She failed. 

It barely registered that he wrapped a towel around her, the same soft white cotton one from months ago, she felt the warmth of his fingertips bleeding into her shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

Those simple words made her laugh but that soon transformed into a wail. The sound so low and croaky. He clutched her shoulders tighter, keeping her trembling form from falling apart, if only for a moment. His eyes raked over her, his hands soon patting her arms.

“You’re bleeding.”

It nearly buried her just how distraught he sounded. All the time lost between them meant nothing, not in that moment. He was man worried for the woman he loved, like a husband would his wife. It did not matter that the memories were out of his reach because she was within his reach, at least physically.

She nodded and did so quite dumbly. Sniffling, she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip to keep her from crying out again. On the drive over, she had pointedly ignored the cuts on her face and fingers. Superficial things that felt too deep under his gaze.

Blood coated her tongue.

It she focused hard enough, she could still taste him and the bloody kisses he left behind. So faint but forever imprinted on her mind, body and soul. She could still remember how he felt against her lips, how he slotted between her thighs like he belonged there, so close to sliding home and making them whole again. Or how his hands, forever stained by charcoal, left bruises on her hips, the kind that were skin deep like indigo blossoms swathed by dark. Marks she cherished until they faded.

Fingers entwining with her own broke her reverie. The others traced the line of her jaw, feather light as if too hard of a press would shatter her. Perhaps he knew how close she was to breaking, waving her white flag and jumping ship.

Ben had been the one who taught her to swim but she never taught her how to do so without him. 

“What happened?” He whispered.

His hand turned and so his knuckles collected her tears, still so delicate, almost fleeting like a breeze in summer.

Thought his movements were slow and precise and his words spoken quietly, she saw the underlying panic within him. His composure was slipping and did so in a rapid manner. He possessed his tells. Always had. Always would. She knew them better than her own, like a book she long memorised. 

She flinched when his knuckle touched a sensitive spot on her cheek, the cut shallow but nipping. The sharp inhale that followed cut her deeper. With wide eyes, he hesitated, looking like he wanted to run to save himself from causing her further harm. She shook her head, pleading with him and he seemed to recover though his touches were mechanical, gentle pat downs as he undoubtedly looked for any more injuries, something serious.

But there were none.

At least on the surface.

Something he could see and treat.

“You don’t want to see me any more and I ruined it…I destroyed something you loved for years and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand.”

It was honest enough but it lit her up. It just sat wrong that he had no idea what she was referring to and it ate her up inside, devouring all her patience and rationality.

“I smashed up the Falcon!” Rey bit out, snatching her hands from his grasp. 

It was cruel, she was acutely aware of that but her emotions were a storm and she was caught right in the eye of them. Tumbling up and down with no calm in sight.

“It’s just a car.”

Finality.

Those words felt like the final words in her coffin. The last restraints around her fell away.

“No it isn’t!” She seethed, baring her teeth.

Her veins were alight with indignance and hurt. 

“Rey-”

“-No. It isn’t just a car. It was everything. It was you. Sometimes I used to think you loved that car more than me,” she laughed bitterly as she began to pace.

Pent up energy bubbled up inside her and simmered below the surface. It itched for release.

He swallowed hard and stood to full height. The room was still so dark, illuminated only by the slivers of silver light. Threads that never fully reached her, she was drenched in shadows. Most fitting of her emotional state and lack of control. 

“It meant so much to you…to us. The first time you kissed me, I was sitting on the hood of the car. We were fourteen and you just couldn’t stop staring at me that day. You barely lifted a tool and then out of nowhere, you tugged me close and kissed me. It was one of the best moments of my life,” she cried out.

Her fingers wormed up to her t-shirt, clenching the fabric above her heart.

“And when you kissed me again a few weeks ago, I finally felt like I had you back, that you loved me. I know you aren’t him, not entirely but I fell in love with you anyway.”

He looked just as broken as her. The devastation tore him apart just as much as it did her and she knew that both of them deserved to be free of the pain. 

Tears streamed and rolled down his cheeks and fell to the floor between them. It broke her heart some more. Seeing his grief so plainly and his tears was a rare thing. The vulnerability never came easy to him, not before or after but in that moment he dropped his mask and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But she was at risk too. 

“I do love you, I always have. When I woke up, I couldn’t believe you were real but then I saw that hope in your heart that wouldn’t die, that light in your eyes that showed me you were searching for the man you married and I’m not him,” he breathed out, his voice shaky.

The slump of his shoulders and continued tears told of the weight in his words.

She stepped forward, needing to help him.

“I did, for the longest time I did. But I began to see you,” she offered in returned, sniffling.

“When you kissed me and called me his name, it broke my heart, Rey. The doubt will always be there and I can’t do it. It’s not fair, not to either of us.”

“No,” she protested.

“Your husband is gone, Rey. Let the past die, kill it if you have to.”

The reason it killed her and smothered all that fiery hope within her was because she knew the truth of his words. Even if they managed to grow from this and make something new, she would always search for Ben. The man she gave her heart to. The man she would love until her dying day.

It hurt too much.

And hurt people hurt others. 

Horrible realisation sunk into her conscience like hot metal barbs had just burrowed their way in. That combined with white hot rage powered her next movements, the anger of realising it was the end. 

With tears blurring her vision, she launched herself at him, colliding with him like his car did the tree all those years ago during the storm. 

It felt like whiplash.

He was so solid and warm but she pummelled his chest with her fists as she sobbed. The movements were weak, not enough to injure him but enough to make an impact, to show him how broken she was and how much she wanted to fight. 

He allowed her to make her peace with it, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck as he rubbed his thumb in slow circles. He was comforting her in a way she did not deserve.

“You’re still holding on, let go,” he murmured. 

It evoked an odd sound from him, one between loss and victory, regret and pride. It sounded far from human like he knew the weight of loss just as much as she did.

When she could not raise her hands anymore, she crumpled into his embrace, defeated and resigned but still in need of him. Even if it only lasted a second. His tears wet her hair and her own dampened his bare chest. 

She kissed the faint red marks she left on his chest with wet lips soaked with tears and more. Ragged breathing filled the room. Already, she regretted acting in that manner. She made sure to leave no mark forgotten and when she was finished, she pressed a kiss above his heart, feeling just how fast it beat.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His hands encased her waist and she clung to him even harder, desperately trying to make the moment last. 

She knew it would be the last time they ever held one another like this so she took her time, running her fingers down his back, memorising the path of muscles and bone as if she had not already done so a million times before.

She needed to remember this moment forever.

Even if it killed her or ate her alive to do so.

It seemed as nothing would last forever. She would not grow old with him or have any of those black-haired children they had dreamed about. It was time to think of a life without him, no matter how perverse the thought. 

When she managed to pull away from him, he was sobbing openly but quietly. He had always been the stronger one of the two.

“I love you and I always will,” she said, needing him to know that there would never be anyone else.

That made him smile, his face still wet with tears. Though it was a sad one, one prompted by a bittersweet declaration, she knew that he believed her.

“I know, sweetheart.”

It did not seem fair but she nodded. 

Exhausted.

Next came the hardest part. For three long years, the weight around her neck reminded her of him, of what she fought for. An anchor of sorts. But now it was heavy and unbearable and if she kept it, she would drown and never resurface.

Her fingers shook as she slipped her necklace over her head. The one that carried his wedding ring. The gold of the band lit up in the moonlight. Next came her own wedding ring. She had never taken it off. It was a struggle, it bumped along her knuckle like a refusal or protest but finally her finger was bare.

He gaped at her, gulping hard. 

She dropped both into his palm and used her hand to make his fingers curl around them.

She wanted him to own a reminder of what they were. So he would never forget her or himself again. 

It was what he wanted from the beginning. Though it was half-hearted, she respected his desire to live his life as the man he was now. She did it for him and for herself.

“I’m ready to let you go,” she said, though she knew the words were barely the truth.

He nodded, his eyes brimming with fresh tears but he inhaled deeply, like he could breathe for the first time in years. It seemed as if he was unable to formulate a reply. Instead he gazed down at the wedding rings. 

Together again.

It was her time to be the brave one.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. A soft, chaste thing that spoke a million words but most of all, ‘I’ll miss you.’

“Goodbye, Kylo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’M DEAD INSIDE** 😭
> 
> There will be a time jump in the next. 
> 
> Catch me hiding from you all.
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/AlbaStarGazer)


	8. Hello, Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please read the notes at the end.**
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Lurker Extraordinaire who surprised me with a ko-fi donation and has been a huge support 😘💙

**NINE MONTHS LATER**

In the beginning, that initial aftermath, it did not get easier but she learned how to invest in her pain and make it something different, something bearable. 

She felt a bit lost.

Like dust in the wind, she was not entirely sure where she would end up or if she had any real meaning anymore. All of her life had been intertwined with Ben’s. There was never her without him or him without her. For so long, she had refused to see that he too was lost, too blinded by denial. He had fallen through her fingertips long ago.

Her mother, Amilyn was Leia’s closest and most beloved friend and they celebrated when they realised they were pregnant at the same time.

Of course, Ben was premature and arrived early, much too eager to live his life but two months later, she was born and the rest was history.

Of two children growing with one another, sharing a love from day one that blossomed into something different as they grew, something more…everything and far from just something.

All of her memories included him and it had barely sunk in that she would need to live her life without his presence in any capacity.

It was like relinquishing control to an odd form of auto-pilot. The bare minimum was a struggle but she scraped by, pulling herself out of bed every day, a mechanical and learned motion. Murray offered some comfort, the soft nuzzles of his face against her own made her feel needed, his purrs often soundtracked her efforts to fall asleep. The cat was a lifeline and did not know it. He still waited by the door each day expectant of Ben’s return but of course, that never happened. 

Everything was a grey monotonous blur. 

Until one day, she started living. 

It was not hard to roll out of bed or cope with the most basic of tasks. Instead of working her fingers to the bone rain or shine, she began taking days off and hiring help around the farm. Years of frugal spending afforded her some comfort and so she decided to dig into her nest egg. It was little things to start, buying the sundress she had been eyeing at the town’s local boutique, the one that was bright yellow with a pretty sunflower print. Or treating herself to a manicure and pedicure to match said dress. 

Little by little, she found happiness in the small things. Swimming in the morning had become routine, feeling the world quiet and slip away as she carved her path in the cool water. She lined the window sill in her bedroom with cacti of different variety, shape or colour. Let her hair down more and just let it catch a breeze. 

While she found solace, she wanted more. Saying goodbye to her husband was the hardest thing she had ever endured, there were still reminders of him everywhere and she knew they were not healthy. One day, she knew she would be able to look back on the good times and smile, cherish the time she did have with him. Until she reached that point, she would persevere and keep going.

Amilyn visited every Friday.

Her mother had supported her decision to let him go, even if sometimes her eyes would glaze over and she would quiet for a moment. With her being so close to Leia, it was difficult for her, and Rey knew it. Ben had been her son too. Kylo was different but Amilyn still saw him since he had moved back home with his parents as he adjusted. It was an unspoken agreement that she did not mention him in conversation, purely out of fear it would stunt any progress Rey had worked so hard to make.

Sunlight streamed through the window bathing the kitchen in a soft, yellow light.

Rey sipped her iced tea, eyeing the trees beyond the window.

“Why don’t you get away for a while? Go exploring,” Amilyn prompted, resting her hand on her shoulder.

Rey clucked her tongue, not really sure she could argue. 

“What about the work around the farm?”

“You have Finn. He’s your friend and knows the work like the back of his hand. He could manage the hires. Maybe him and Poe could stay here a while.”

It was set by the weekend. Murray went to stay with her mother and Finn promised everything would be okay. Poe nodded along in agreement.

So off she went. She drove across states. Stayed in dingy motels and five star hotels. Each place, she made a new memory and felt her heart begin to heal.

It was like she was an individual, someone not reliant on someone else to make her happy though she still felt somewhat hallow.

She swam on each coast. Tasted pizza in Chicago, soaked up the Californian sun on a beach where days melted into one another. 

It was a new kind of experience. With her upbringing, she had barely left her hometown, never feeling wanderlust or the need to spread her wings and fly. Her and Ben made their own adventures in the form of tyre swings in the backyard or swimming in the creek. It was enough back then. 

They were it for each other. Their roots tangled and entwined so tight that they did not grow elsewhere, never dared to. Never needed to. 

When she lost him, she felt the rot and decay of those roots. Ate them alive. Felt it deep.

In her mind and spirit and heart.

Because who was she if she was not Ben’s?

Rey.

Who was she?

What was her life about?

The time on the East Coast in particular certainly opened her eyes to that truth. 

Rey was the sun.

In the way all life needed it to grow and she basked in it, thriving and living, pocketing sea shells and eating ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She chased it whenever she could, whether that be early morning runs on the beach and feeling the sand between her toes. Or when she stretched out on the hotel room balcony just before sunset, feeling the warmth of the day sink into her skin and leave a tawny kiss behind.

Rey was the ocean.

Both calm and stormy.

Forgiving and not so gracious, fierce.

It took some time to forgive herself for the last three years and it would likely turn into a lifelong process. Mercy. For tying herself to a man who was drowning, a silent affair and yet she refused to let him surface and served as an anchor instead of something he could lean on or something to keep him afloat so he could keep his head above water.

In the South she attempted to untangle some more roots.

It was in New Orleans that she met Rose. A woman who taught her much about forgiveness. Despite her rough upbringing in the backwater bayou swamplands and the far from kind people who dragged her up through the years, never raising, never loving, she was still a woman who welcomed her into her home and offered her a bed when she had none.

They had met at her bar, a small place away off the busier streets. A hole in the wall. A jagged scar disfigured her face, running from brow to her chin but it did not take away from her beauty. Rey had been caught staring and instead of bringing fire and spitting her out, she offered her a seat, placed two glasses in front of her and poured them both a Sazerac. 

Straight up, without ice of course and with plenty of lemon zest.

They spoke like dear, old friends. 

The chat flowed easy and with more drinks, Rey felt lighter and warmer than she had done so in months. It took barely any time for Rose to figure out that she was looking for answers or belonging, maybe just needing to live a little so she promptly offered her a job in the bar. Nothing too much, just cleaning or waitressing if it was busier than usual and in turn, the spare room in the apartment above the bar was hers for as long as she wanted.

One day, a patron waltzed in, all dark hair and pale skin and it struck Rey. Right in the heart and shocking, just like lightning. So similar to Kylo but not quite and that was when Rey opened her heart and mouth, telling Rose all about the accident and the struggle afterward.

All the while, Rose listened, never coaxing her for more than she was willing to give. Not that she needed to. In the backroom, she spilled her guts, unable to stop the words falling right out of her lips.

When it was over, with tears and laughter and Rose’s infectious smile making warmth of her face, she spoke, squeezing Rey’s knee in reassurance.

“You looked within yourself and saw your mistakes. It makes you brave. You let the one you love go free but like the birds who flee winter, they find their way home, they always return to us and sing their song. I believe you will too, him as well.”

It made her think of his words to her.

_”Won’t you fly high, free bird?”_

From then on, she was not so hard on herself. She forgave but would never forget, saw not only her own misdeeds but his too. It made them flawed and human. She did not want to go through her life without scars, wounds that taught lessons, however shallow or deep they were.

New Orleans was loud. It felt like a second home to her, Rose became the sister she never had but always wanted. Her wisdom something to draw and learn from. Her courage and affinity to love inspiring to anyone around her.

It was not always like that. Weighty life lessons and philosophical musings. One day whilst walking through the quarter, they found themselves in a tattoo parlour. The buzz of the tattoo gun seemed to call them above the Louisiana loudness. Both donned a small, simple tattoo when they left. Rey chose a small rose, the design made up of thin, neat lines. Rose picked an equally small cactus. 

It went without saying, they were little reminders on both of their wrists to cement their time together.

Other days were lighter and without any real meaning.

A lot of the time, they would lounge on-top of the bar, flat on their backs after a long night, enjoying the quiet and talk of trivial things. Random cartoon characters or which flavour of pop tarts were the best. 

She saw Rose love in a different way when her partner visited. He lived in England, work kept him there, a man named Armitage who insisted she call him ‘Tig’. His hair was red like a tiger so it was an easy thing to do.

From afar, she would watch them interact, sharing coy smiles and touches and it made her want to love in that way again.

Her only fear was that Kylo might not respond well to that. He was the one she wanted and she was quite certain the feeling was mutual but whether it could work or not was a whole different story. But she saw how Rose and Tig made it work, an ocean separating the two, maybe just as deep and vast as the time lost between Rey and Kylo, and yet they thrived. 

Under neon lights and with a jukebox at their backs, they let love guide them and it did so beautifully. 

A few months passed in the city.

After a while, she realised she felt a bit more whole and with it came a fresh wave of optimism. Home called and so she made her final journey with the promise to keep in touch. Rose, in turn, said she would venture out Rey’s way and come learn about her world. Maybe show her how much she missed New Orleans and drag Tig with her.

Rey would never forget her new family, the one she chose all by herself.

When they embraced, clinging to the other, not wanting to let go, they pressed their wrists together and let their tattoos touch.

A kiss of skin. 

The permanent marks, skin deep ink, a show of all they had been through together. It was more of a ‘I’ll see you soon,’ than a goodbye.

Being back on the farm felt right.

All in all, she had been gone for around nine months.

Upon her return, she dropped to her knees and just let herself feel the land beneath her and all the memories return. Both joyful ones and ones that still made her gasp, not quite in pain but of want. The desire to see him stroll around the corner and welcome her back with a kiss and an embrace she could melt into.

It never came of course and it did not hurt, it did not cripple her or bury her in the very land she birthed goods and life from. No, she stood as Rey, someone who could stand on her own two feet, now fully equipped to deal with whatever was in store for her.

Before she stepped into the farmhouse, she buried a few seashells in her garden amongst her rose bushes. Later, when she unpacked her suitcase, she found some mardi gras beads underneath her clothes. She hung them around her bed post, fingered each individual bead and thought of Rose.

The time away had served her well. 

When her mother saw her again, she lit up, clearly delighted with her progress and new lease on life.

There was a spring in her step as she set up her stall, unloading products and produce. The farmer’s market always felt like a place she could belong and blend in. Just disappear for a moment. The same faces had frequented the area for as long as she could remember.

It was hot.

The kind of heat that made her question her location. The table was set up under a tall oak which provided plenty of shade so she could not complain, others had it worse. It was early but the humidity clung heavy to the air and anyone who dared venture outdoors.

The scent coming from the ground told of an incoming rain, she felt it. She bent low, crumbled some dirt between her fingers. They were in dire need of a good rainfall. Something to water the land and everyone inhabiting it.

Hoards of people were in attendance, all dressed similarly to her. The sunflower sundress had served her well. As she set up, she might have shimmied her hips along to the beat of some local band playing off in the distance, swaying and humming in time. The sunhat perched on her head offered some more reprieve from the heat. So she smiled, tilted it just right and continued her set up, stacking products. Much of it remained in the cooler tucked beneath the table, the main portion of her display composed of samples and informational brochures. 

The crowd was buzzing with enthusiasm. 

There was more foot traffic than she had ever anticipated. All day, she worked non stop to bag orders or converse, chatting happily with curious children or wives loading their wicker baskets as their husbands jokingly grumbled and paid for said purchases. 

When she finally managed to take a seat and rest, it was late in the day. People were filtering out back to their cars. She propped her head up and yawned, wanting nothing more than to sleep and stretch out, close her eyes for a second and maybe some more.

Then something woke her, made her stir and pay attention.

A feeling of eyes upon her. The hair on her arms stood up as she opened her eyes and found him standing there, a few feet away from her stall.

It knocked the air out of her lungs.

Kylo.

He cut quite an imposing figure amongst the rest. Still so handsome, lighter. Tanner than she had seen him in years with his white t-shirt and red plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

His hair was longer, most obviously swept away from his face due to the heat but there was nothing hotter than his gaze on her.

It felt different but so similar, the want so upfront and undeniable. The pull between them had been reignited. It was hard to resist or deny.

He approached cautiously, palming the back of his neck.

“Rey.”

She stood to meet him, her old fold up chair creaked with the shift of her weight.

“Kylo.”

It was impossible to gauge his reaction. He worked his bottom lip with his teeth.

“You look good,” they both said at the same time.

Rey laughed, biting her lip, feeling a blush stain her cheeks a shade darker than dusky rose. 

“You’ve caught the sun.”

Rey nodded, adjusting her sunhat to protect her face some more. 

“I’ve been away travelling. I just arrived back last week.”

“How was it?”

“It was something I needed to do. I learned a lot about myself.”

He nodded, thoughtful, his face a sea of calm with curiosity buried in those expressive eyes of his. Just another ocean for her to explore if he let her.

“You look like you’ve had a busy day,” he commented, gesturing to her stall. It was near empty.

“I’m nearly cleared out, not much left,” she smiled, proud.

The fact that so many had swarmed her stall, so eager for the products that she poured a lot of her time into, made it all worthwhile. Those gruelling hours of backbreaking work that left her fingernails almost constantly caked in dirt. 

Kylo perched himself against the table, leaning closer and then there was some silence. It was not awkward, far from it. There was much to say but where to begin? From where she stood, she could smell his cologne, the strong undertones of pine carried across a languid breeze right to her. Her body hummed in recognition.

“What are you doing here?” She pried, fingering the last of her produce, keeping her eyes trained on them. 

“I was selling my art here. I just cleared up and thought I’d look around before I left. I didn’t expect to see you here since you’ve been gone.”

It made her heart skip a beat.

Had he known this was the market she sold goods at? When she was away, had he searched for her in the crowds like she had done when she explored other states, wanting nothing more than to catch a glimpse of him?

“Your art,” her brows shot up her forehead. That was also surprising.

Before, he had always doubted his abilities and hidden most of his creations away. Back at home, his studio remained untouched, the door locked tight and everything within undoubtedly gathering dust. It was a hurdle she had yet to conquer but it did not have her beat.

“Yeah, it was mostly prints and a few original pieces. Landscapes of the area but I sold everything.”

Kylo smiled, a genuine one. Like the weight of the world and expectation no longer broke his back and spirit. It was bittersweet but ultimately, she found joy in his own happiness and success.

“That’s wonderful, I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, resting her hand on top of his.

It was warm. Not to mention, it was just nice to touch him again. She briefly wondered if she had crossed a line or invaded his space without express permission but that line of thinking was put to rest when he curled his other hand around her own, essentially surrounding it.

Like that, she could feel the steady pump of his pulse flutter and increase against her pinkie finger. The breaths that escaped her lips were shallow and quick, her own show of want and excitement. Despite everything, there was no denying the connection between them. Forged long ago, it had not died off or withered, it was just dormant and waiting for them to find the other again.

Soon enough, her thoughts escalated when they brushed upon the question of whether he had truly missed her. If that hole in her own heart was a twin of his. A part of her wanted to ask, to know if he dreamed of times when he loved her and if he saw her less as a nightmare come to haunt him and more of a dream he wished a reality.

In her heart, she knew they could be together again.

But her words failed her at that moment.

“I was thinking maybe we could get some coffee after this? I would love to know about your travels. I mean, you don’t have to, I understand if you don’t want to. I just…missed you,” he trailed off, his chin dipped low as if he was bracing himself for rejection.

Rey stilled and it was like breathing new air. The vulnerability of his confession moved her. For once, he was the one with his heart on his sleeve. He has missed her. She was not wrong in her assumptions.

It would not hurt to spend time with him, this is what she wanted. Things had changed. They were no longer bitter half strangers caged in a room with the other, love and resentment running deep until the tension reached a breaking point.

“I would love that, Kylo.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, hopeful. It had obviously startled him.

“Yes.”

It was only then did she spot the familiar chain she had worn for three long years. Under his white shirt, just above his heart, were the obvious impressions of two wedding rings.

It made her hope against hope, that somehow they could figure things out, grow some more individually and then as a couple. Still, seeing the rings together and on his person definitely made her feel things, the warmth in her heart renewed.

Her fingers itched to reach out and touch them. To merge the past, present and future into one.

Out of nowhere, it began to rain.

It came down hard and fast, so sudden it stunned her. It was not unwanted or unexpected but the coldness of it certainly had her gasping.

“Oh, I knew that was coming,” Rey groaned, racing to box up what was left of her stock. There was not much at all. 

It would not take long to clear up. To her surprise, Kylo was by her side, working faster than she ever could, his hands larger and able to carry more.

“Two sets of hands are better than one,” he quipped, already having swept more than half of her remaining stock into the cooler.

She nodded, unable to argue with that logic, more than happy for his help and presence. They moved in time, just knowing how to dance around the other. Just like they always had.

Within a couple of minutes, they had managed to clear the area. Both were soaked the bone. Her dress felt so much heavier and his white shirt was near enough see through. But she could not stop to admire him, they bundled everything up into their arms as people around them scrambled to do the same.

“I can take the rest to my car.”

“I’ll help, it’s no problem.”

With their arms full and the sky clouding over, they began to race towards the parking lot. The rain was coming down heavier than before. It amazed her just how abruptly the storm had rolled in, bringing plumes of thick, grey clouds that were near enough black.

Once they reached her car, she popped the trunk and loaded things in, just as she heard a crack fill the air and a blast of white paint the sky.

It filled her with dread and sent a shiver up her spine, rooting her to the spot, mouth agape.

The lightning struck and thunder followed. 

It boomed, roaring over the noise of rainfall. The lightning crackled like an exposed live-wire left exposed.

The reaction that followed to such exposure was expected but it still broke her heart, still made her panic.

Kylo dropped the boxes he was carrying.

The blood drained from his face and left him paler than she had ever seen him. He froze. Blinked a couple of times and tried to draw in deep breaths but failed.

It dawned on both of them, just how similar the conditions were to the night all those years ago.

A storm.

The one nearly tore his life from him but ending up carrying him away from her like he had died.

PTSD was a phrase she had only heard whispered between Leia and her mother. At the facility, he was safe. Hidden away from triggers to the best of their ability.

Out in the open, he was vulnerable. Left weakened by memories she could barely fathom. Of screeching tyres and twisting metal, a broken body and mind. 

“Kylo, it’s okay,” she called out, her urgency as clear as the day started out.

Though she shook, she reached out, desperate to shield him away from it all and comfort him, skip the storm and fast forward to the calm that always followed afterwards.

Just as her fingertips came into contact with his forearm, he bolted, stumbling away from her with wide eyes made up of terror and heavy breathing sounding it all. Both of his hands came up to clutch at his neck and hair. Her pulse beat like a drum in her head and tunnel vision set in.

She was no stranger to panic attacks. But combatted with the severe trauma of surviving a near unsurvivable accident was something so intense, magnified a million times over that she could hardly imagine what he was feeling. Just how deeply the lightning and thunder had scarred him.

Kylo moved about blindly, walking backwards with no regard for his surroundings. Cars raced by and dodged him, missing him time and time again but he continued to spiral and wander in his own dazed way. Behind him, a car’s horn beeped, blaring above everything. The storm had made slick of the roads and despite the efforts of the driver, it slid without traction, hurtling towards him. And Kylo was none the wiser. He was there, right there, not knowing of his fate. 

He had been struck once and she could not let it happen again.

She could not breathe but she could move, she moved faster than she had ever done so before with a clear mind and shaky limbs.

With one harsh push, her palms connected with his chest and she knocked him right off his feet and out of the way.

There was no time for her to save herself.

The impact was startling, a loud cry flew right out of her. The metal crushed against her flesh and bones. For a split second, she was knocked right off her feet and out of her sandals. Her sunhat flew off in the wind.

Then she landed, smacking her head off the concrete.

All was quiet, at least to her.

She felt the rain on her skin but not much else, a loud buzzing and painful throb tore right through her skull and an odd sense of peace washed over her.

Everything and nothing hurt simultaneously. It did not make sense but she did not question it, did not have the capacity for it.

Through the daze, she heard her name though it was drowned.

“Rey!”

She blinked in response, felt something warm leak and weep right past her eye like a crude, red tear. Tasted copper on her tongue.

Then she saw him.

His lips moved so close to her own, his eyes so full of worry and something she could not pinpoint pinned her in place. Fingers cradled her cold ones.

Two gold wedding bands hovered above her after breaking out of the confines of his shirt. 

Till death do us part.

He once said those words and she finally believed them again.

“Kylo,” she whispered, smiling despite everything.

“I remember, Rey. I remember you…I don’t know how but I’m here, sweetheart, don’t leave me, I need you to stay awake. Please.”

“Ben…”

“Rey.”

“Kylo,” she sighed.

Unable to cling to consciousness anymore, she closed her eyes and let herself drift.

Another dose of lightning cracked along the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes deep breath*
> 
> **DARE I SAY BEN/KYLO POV NEXT CHAPTER?**
> 
> **SPOILER: Rey is going to be okay.**
> 
> I was **really** nervous about my direction. This has been planned from the start.
> 
> Observe the tag-car accidents. It is plural. So this was **not** done for shock value.
> 
> It is poetry. 
> 
> A storm and car accident tore them apart once and now it has brought them back together.
> 
> **BUT**
> 
> I just want to say, this is not an easy way out for me. Kylo is not suddenly going to become Ben. He might have his memories back but he was a new man for over 3 years. 
> 
> Kylo was and is never going to be a plot device. He is his own character. And a part of Ben
> 
> I will be striking a balance between them. As Ben is not going to revert back to who he once was and I will explore that in the next. I mentioned in the last chapter, Rey would always look for Ben and Kylo would always doubt she loved him so as much as I cared for Kylo without his memories, a relationship was not possible for them in that way.
> 
> Rey loved Kylo and Ben and I will not be erasing either of them.
> 
> They needed time a part to grow as individuals and for Rey to see herself as an individual and a person whose happiness did not depend on someone else.
> 
> I know some will not like this direction. Or some will say I rushed it but I did not want to develop Kylo more and allude he was going to live his life without his memories. Some might see it as taking the easy way out but trust me, I have foreshadowed the car crash and Kylo regaining Ben’s memories.
> 
> If I have disappointed you, I am sorry.
> 
> I hope I can show you what I mean by all of this in the next.
> 
> **THANK YOU**
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who has supported me with this. It means a lot 💙
> 
> No more angst!
> 
>  [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/AlbaStarGazer)


	9. Black Out Days

**BEN/KYLO POV**

Kylo never thought she would actually _leave._

Over the years, he had been cruel, sometimes viciously so, but not out of contempt for her, never that. There was not a bone in his body that could hate her. An impossibility so perverse it did not bear thinking about. When he offered her nothing but coldness during the times his self loathing and guilt reached new levels, she still offered warmth, even if it was a silent declaration. No words were ever needed when it came to her, she was an open book and him the most avid reader of all things her. 

He knew he did not deserve her unwavering support amongst his attempts to push her away.

Maybe that is why he tried to chip away at her, to make her loosen the ties she had around his heart but instead, he found nothing but stubborn resistance. There was never a time when he despised her, despite how he acted but he wished it anyway. It would have been easier to hate her.

No, he wanted her and that is where the root of the problem stemmed from. It bled into all their interactions. That thin line of passion tested him. The desire for her was like a hunger that would never cease and continuously gnaw at his insides so insistently. 

It was startling just how hard he had fallen for eyes full of tears and whose light dimmed every time she pushed herself into spending time with him. On the days she would crack just a little, it was like a mirror image, it cut him but he forced a mask of blank expression and came off callous when he was the furthest thing from it.

Some part of him hoped against hope that she could love him and not the one lost. It tore him up inside and kept him awake at night. The dreams always haunted him, tiny glimpses, flashes of colour and them together that made him want her even more.

The dreams were bittersweet in that sense.

Those memories did not belong to him. Of her tawny skin on show as she dipped her fingers into rich soil and tended to life, all with a smile. There, she was always surrounded by roses of all variety and colour. Then she always turned and beckoned him forward with a gentle crook of her index finger. Or there were times where his hands splayed her out on white sheets, the colour contrasting with her bare flesh so ripe, tan, flushed and wet for him.

Times when he loved her.

Nights when he could show her just how much he loved her and in the physical sense.

Pressed himself inside and felt tiny hands pull at his ribs and feet at his back to draw himself deeper and closer still. Sometimes, he would dream of her cries and moans and the name of a man buried in metal and blood on the tip of her tongue.

For those precious moments, he allowed himself to pretend the memories were his own. It roused something inside of him but he felt touch starved, desperate for those pseudo touches to become a reality of his own. 

Except it was not him, not really.

Since he woke, half a man living in a shadow, he had barely touched her. Fear kept him from doing so because he had already fallen for her strength and beauty, that fiery spit of hope that both made him ache and sympathise. Sometimes, he was weak and he would swarm her, unable to resist feeling her warmth in person or the scents that clung to her clothes, skin and hair. It was like sunshine, citrus and the soil after rain all rolled into one. 

On his worst days when the turmoil reached a boiling point, he wished he had never survived the crash, a sure way to save both of them the grief that followed.

Death sometimes seemed easier than living. At least the blow would have been clean, a clear cut departure and better than the mess left behind.

It was a miracle he had lived. 

When he looked in the mirror, as bare as the day he was born, he saw his scars. The one bisecting his face was perhaps the most crude of them all. The doctor told him his face had smashed against his car window, the force of the collision nearly ejected him from the vehicle completely.

The scar was a permanent reminder of the split within him. Of two lives crammed into one body. An unwilling thing, a chaotic duality of sorts. A constant show of how he was the intruder but the one in control but with no real feasible power.

In some ways, he hated the man that had been before him because he would never rise up and stand as his equal, the former would always eclipse him and so he accepted that fate but buried that dead name. Only Rey referred to him by it and each time it eroded his mind some more.

It showed her blatant disregard for him and the yearning for her husband. So despite him standing in front of her and begging her to see him, her vision was just too blind, clouded by memories he no longer possessed.

There were more scars, the faded ones, nearly white like silver scratches and almost invisible. They were the older ones that came with no real recognition. Sometimes he would gaze at them and wonder just how they came upon his skin. A million scenarios ran rampant through his mind but none seemed remotely familiar. It felt so wrong. A terrible predicament that he had no control over. 

It seemed as if nothing would wake the silence in his mind. Whatever was there before was seemingly lost, leaving him incomplete but not necessarily longing. 

All he was left was with whispers on his skin and dreams of situations he could never be certain were a reality.

There were other scars that none could see. Invisible to most and only visible to the people he allowed. Very few knew of the horrors in his mind. Of the nightmares that made him scream into the darkness with a name making his throat raw and coarse. 

That was one thing he knew was real.

Before hitting the tree, he screamed her name, so terrified that he would never see her again. That scene plagued him nightly. Death had not been the one to strike terror in him, it was the thought of losing her. The fear would paralyse him and pin him in place as if he was in that car again and walking the thin line between life and death. Wobbling so precariously that he could tumble in any direction.

With a racing heart and body covered in a sheen layer of sweat, he would gaze around the room at all of the art he had created over the years. Just so he could see her face, just so he could face her and clutch to the semblance of light and peace that came with doing so.

Yet, he could never get her completely right. There was always something out of place, too many smudges on the paper. Those black marks stained every surface, touched every inch of him and he feared nothing more than touching her, tainting her and making those splotches permanent. There were times when he could not resist it, when he painted the seam of her lips black and kissed her.

It had been surreal. Something so intrinsically good he was sure it was a dream. Below him, she had squirmed and panted, flushed bright pink until he sunk his teeth into her lip and brought blood to the surface. A bloody kiss. There was something there, a flicker of recognition but it flew beyond his grasp when she called out a dead name to the living man.

It hurt and that is when he decided that he could no longer fool himself into believing she saw him.

In a way, they were shackled together but by choice or circumstance, well, he was not entirely sure. Either way, it did not matter. His feelings were valid and they were up in the air, tangible but strewn about.

He knew that he loved her but he could never be sure if her feelings for him were genuine in the sense that she saw him or the man hidden within. It was surreal to feel invisible to the naked eye, overlooked in many ways but he understood her, he could never blame her.

He never expected her to _leave_ but she did.

It had taken years but she finally referred to him by the name he had chosen for his blank slate of a life. But there was no victory associated with that win, it was her last goodbye and it left a bitter taste in his mouth and an even larger hole in his heart.

Rey had been reduced to nothing, drained of all fight so she had finally released him and did so with a soft kiss full of tears that he could still taste.

Life went on whether he wanted it to or not. 

Leaving the facility was like shedding his skin. It came with a certain sense of freedom laced with dread. It was the only home he had ever known but it had been his own self imposed prison. Somewhere he hid away and stopped himself from growing. Like the static on a television screen or stagnant pond water, just waiting for anything to kickstart a change.

Maz hugged him with all her might and made him promise he would visit. The woman had become a second mother and one of his closest confidantes, someone who had touched him in ways that he would never be able to repay. With her, there was no expectation or second guessing himself, she saw him with those eyes who had seen more than her years.

The wedding rings burned holes in his pockets.

They symbolised more than a failed marriage and two hurt people. For the longest time, Rey had been the one to carry the load and cling to the promises whispered between them, vows that their lives would be intertwined forevermore and now it was his turn. 

Not much was known about the future. Many tried to guess it or offer possibilities but Kylo did not think too far ahead. All he could do was live day by day, grow some and then some more. 

He never thought it would be so difficult.

Settling in Leia and Han’s guesthouse had been the opposite, completely easy. They accepted him long ago and knew he valued his space and time alone.

And yet he still found himself restless and ready to burst but with what, he did not know. Sometimes he wanted to drop to his knees and scream, to untangle the messy set of threads in his head that ultimately led to a dead end. A solid brick wall like a cold hysteria that threatened to make or break him if he contained his ways of denial.

The denial being that he could cut himself off from her completely and be better for it.

Other times, he would hunch over his desk, both lost and memorised by dark lines and sharp angles. The act of drawing her had become a habit, not one he was willing to try kick and put to rest. Most of the time, they ended up as little sketches in his small moleskin sketchbook. Most were insignificant and sparse but with enough added detail to identify the woman as Rey. 

Not much was said about her but from overhearing hushed conversations between his mother and hers, he knew that she was no longer in the area. A conflict arose then. His tiny freebird had spread her wings and flown away, maybe towards the sun or a new land that she might not return from. 

It was supposed to be a good thing. There was nothing he wanted more than for her to find happiness and live her life instead of standing still or lost in purgatory with him. Yet, he was weak, he thought of her with others and it near enough crippled him with the weight of that possibility. He knew he was a hypocrite but that did not make a difference.

So he imagined her journey. Tried his hand at watercolours and pens for the first time and started by painting a road, one surrounded by an orange desert and cacti lining the sides. In that one, he sketched her lithe frame and hair loose as she walked across the asphalt. Selfishly, he shaded a shadow, just large enough and recognisable as himself. Just so she would know he would always be with her wherever she roamed.

His favourite was one of her on a beach, lounged out and baking nicely under the sun. Even before, the tawny glow of her skin enticed him but he imagined her freckles making a welcome appearance, heavy dustings of chestnut on her nose, cheeks and shoulders. More pretty patterns for him to admire or imagine from afar.

Wherever she was, he found peace in the assumption that she was happy. It did not matter they were apart or he felt regret. It was time to put her feelings and welfare equal with his own.

As the time rolled by, he found his own kind of happiness. Hiking had become a great love of his life. In the morning before it was too hot, he would take off for the tall hills or woodland trails with a sketchbook in hand and plenty of water. Though his feet initially paid the price, he enjoyed feeling strong again, the muscles in his body put to use again. He no longer felt weak, he was not wasting away in a room.

If it was too hot, he found some calm in lifting weights in the garage. Han sometimes joined him. There was no awkwardness, just mutual silence or conversations about cars, which Kylo found himself a natural at. He had no idea where he plucked the details from but he did not question it, enjoying the gleam in his father’s eyes more than worrying about logistics.

Leia was a different kind of person. Someone who worked most of the time but on the days she chose to relax, she would sit and knit, her tiny hands busy and the clink of knitting needles somewhat familiar to him. Though it took a while, he learned her craft, the mother and son sat side by side and produced creations that surprised even Kylo. So full of colour, no black in sight. Quite a dramatic shift from the dark art in his workshop.

The world felt less grey.

He supposed that came with actually living instead of sitting in a facility waiting around for something.

Once or twice, Amilyn mentioned the local farmer’s market and how all kinds of goods were sold there. 

That is how he set about sketching landscapes on his daily hikes and paying special attention to detail. It went against his comfort zone of abstract and the heavy use of charcoal so it worried him in a sense. There was selling art and then there was the behind the scenes of putting a piece of himself into it and fearing judgement.

A couple of times, he dropped the idea altogether. 

But it would nag at him and he would find his confidence and start again.

There was an art to failure. 

Failure was the greatest teacher and he applied that to all workings in his life, even his marriage and relationship. He had learned a great deal from it. 

A significant change came when he came across an old photo album in the garage. Leia was a neat person, all the plastic boxes were stacked and neatly arranged but one day, he walked straight into them after a particularly trying hike that left him a bit heavy footed. He scrambled to box everything up but he could not return one item.

He recognised himself in the first page. A young kid with gangly limbs, chubby cheeks and ears way too big for his face. Right next time him was a young girl, she was on his back, arms and legs wrapped around him like a little monkey. Familiar green eyes gazed at him with a smile full of toothy holes.

He sat down and immersed himself in the past. Laughing, smiling and crying when he reached the final page.

It was of them again, but this time they were much older but still so young and fresh faced. The photographer caught the moment he slid Rey’s wedding ring onto her finger and the look on her face would never leave him again. She looked so complete. Something he yearned to see again.

After he hid the photo album away in his bedroom, he shuffled through his top drawer until he found the rings that still felt very much like an anchor, so heavy but resilient. It took him a while to find a chain for them but after he did so, he found himself facing the bathroom mirror. Though his fingers trembled he managed to clasp them around his neck, sighing when he found the rings hovered just above his heart.

It felt right, that closeness.

He brought them to his lips, kissed them and then whispered his wants, but did so quietly like a prayer and just as reverently. Maybe he feared if he said them aloud, it would somehow jinx the hope he felt.

More months passed and he had thrown himself into painting. He had struck up a friendship with a woman he met on the hiking trail near his house. Gwen was quite like him and at first, their conversations were brief and quite superficial but as time went on, she opened up more, explaining that she moved from England to America to care for her father, a man who had abandoned her as a child. 

It struck him just how selfless she was. That she managed to squash and bury her own pain and to attempt forgiveness. They were similar in that way. Gwen was a writer and while they sat propped against a tall oak with him sketching, she would tell him stories. Everything from fairytales to wars in space. 

Kylo offered to illustrate her next novel, even just a cover if she needed one to which she blushed and promptly hugged him.

There was nothing romantic between them and that made things easy. Gwen’s partner, Kaydel had also become a friend. Though she was loud, vivacious and outgoing, she was well suited to Gwen. They balanced each other out.

Both encouraged him with his art and after a night of wine and movies, he finally decided to take the plunge and inquired about a stall at the local farmer’s market. 

That one decision, seemingly so insignificant, lead him straight back to her. Due to him being so wrapped up in creating pieces, he had not spent much time with his parents and in turn, Rey’s mother, Amilyn. Though he knew Rey frequented the local farmer’s market, he thought she was still away. It had been nearly a year since he last saw her.

The market had blown all of his expectations, his pieces sold quickly, the crowd’s enthusiasm and praise for him had been unexpected but it left him with a great dose of confidence. After the rush, he cleared everything away but felt compelled to wander around a bit.

There was no missing her.

Her hair was longer and lighter, her skin darker but it was her. He could not resist the pull to approach her, every step towards her felt right.

She was happier.

Lighter.

And so was he. Inviting her for a drink had been impulsive because his thoughts had not changed. He knew even if they were ever to try again and start over, his own insecurities would hurt him in the end. He knew she would look for Ben despite her growth but he needed to see her again and spend time with her. If they were destined to be friends or lovers, he would just take whatever he could.

There was no denying the connection forged between them and in her presence, he felt calmer. 

It happened so fast.

The rumbling of thunder and the electric snap and crack of lightning tearing through the sky. It triggered something within him, blinded him. All he could see was a windscreen washed with rain and hear his own scream as the collision ambushed him again and again. He could scarcely breathe, stumbling about. He thought he heard her call his name, maybe even touch him but he was too far gone, lost between reality and memory. 

Then he was pushed, the fall short but it altered him.

The sound of sirens changed his life again.

Thunder and lightning had once snatched a part of him away, clawed him out and left him hollowed out and strewn the rest of him to the wind.

The same circumstances brought him back and made him whole.

It felt like he was drowning for a split second as an onslaught of memories rushed his system and then it was over. As if it had never happened. With the blink of an eye, he remembered it all. Duality no longer tore him apart, the pieces were synchronised and free flowing. A perfect link of the past and present. 

How could he have ever forgotten her?

Grit scratched his palms, little pieces wormed deep, his jeans were torn at the knees but the worst of it came with a cry that made him forget it all and flip over on his back. Just in time to see the love of his life fly through the air and land a second later, a crumpled heap of limbs and red. Making her own puddle with the rain to fill the potholes around her.

Time seemed to move differently then. He could not recall the details of how he reached her. But he was there, hovering above her, too scared to touch her in case he caused more damage. His freebird so bent and broken, it shattered him even worse than the accident years before. 

He had told her that he remembered her and when she gazed up at him, face streaked with blood and eyes struggling to stay open, she smiled and called him by both of his names. 

It meant everything.

She saw him and did so with a startling clarity.

When she fell limp, a sound escaped him so animalistic in its timber. It was far from human, so fitting since he felt reduced to nothing but a scream in the void. 

The ride to the hospital was a blur.

When the paramedics asked if he was family, he had to look down at the rings around his neck and nodded because of course he was. They were more than that, she was everything to him and the idea of losing her made him want to lose himself again.

He held her hand all the way to the hospital and for as long as they would allow him. It killed him to see how still she was, so pale despite her summer glow. The life drained right out of her before his eyes.

He was in the shoes she walked in years ago. The roles reversed and when she was taken away beyond doors he was not permitted to pass by, he promptly vomited on the floor, spilling his guts. He retched and choked until he felt empty. 

A nurse found him slumped over and assured him that someone would clean it up but all he could think about was Rey slipping away and feeling like a hypocrite for it. Because he had done the same to her and both had suffered for it.

In a daze, he managed to call his parents. They appeared with Amilyn who embraced him, he remembered her. A woman he had always seen as a second mother.

It was hard to formulate words or to come up with an explanation for the return of his memories but it was the least of anyone’s worries. He clung to Leia like he did as a small boy and buried his face in her neck as Han gripped his shoulder.

“Mom,” he cried out.

She held him tighter.

All of them remained at the hospital, waiting to know of Rey’s condition. When she was out of surgery and transferred to recovery and then to a ward, they learned that she had fractured her arm, some of her ribs and landing on her head had lead to a severe concussion.

The doctors said she was lucky.

As her husband, Kylo was allowed to see her first and he took a place by her side, a vigil and willed her to wake up. 

She was covered in bruises, her arm in a cast and bandages covered her head. She was his fighter though. 

He held her hand and kissed her palm, just a gentle thing and rested his head on the bed, the exhaustion caught up with him.

He fell asleep.

“I don’t know what to call you now,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. 

It woke him up from his fragile rest, he rose up, still so tender and worn but more alive that he had been in years.

The watery smile that greeted him, surrounded by bruises and tubes was likely the most glorious thing he had ever set his eyes upon. There was no stopping himself, all of his prior restraint slipped away.

As softly as he could, he caressed her jaw and leaned forward, kissing her, feeling tears wet his lips. It took him a second to realise they were his own and not from sadness but elation.

“You can call me whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“You’re not just Ben anymore,” she murmured.

He nodded, reluctantly pulling back. Nearly four years of living as another man had changed him. It did not matter that he remembered everything, he could not erase time or the most recent memories. But there was no conflict between the two. He felt fulfilled and complete, a whole person with a heart that belonged to the same woman it always had.

Her hand found his own and squeezed. No more words were needed, she accepted him.

There was just one more thing to do.

Though his fingers trembled, he slid the delicate, gold wedding band on her finger, right where it belonged. He felt the increase of her pulse at that dainty part of her wrist. When he managed to push it passed her knuckle, a sound spilled from her lips, one so quiet and sincere, as if she was breathing for the first time.

It was shaky but the most welcome of sounds. Just hours before he had been terrified she would never wake again so he clung to all signs that contradicted that notion. 

“I can’t lose you again,” she offered in return, smoothing her thumb against his own wedding ring.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Though her eyes were bleary with tears, she stared at him, long and hard until she found whatever she was looking for. 

The beeping of the machine next to the bed kept him grounded to some extent. They had both survived the worst of the storm and found the calm that always followed afterwards. The parallels between the past and present were startlingly similar, mirror images of rain, metal and white lightning. 

It forced them apart and brought them back together again.

All in all, he just basked at the way her lips curled into a smile, refusing to let time or circumstance waste her. The strength she had exuded during it all was something that would inspire him going onwards. 

“Let’s go home,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more main chapter to go.
> 
> Sorry for the wait.
> 
> All I can say is that Major Depressive Disorder/Clinical Depression is a bitch.
> 
> This is not my best but I did not want to keep everyone waiting anymore. I am a little bit scared to read the comments for that reason but I will do my best to reply.
> 
> Thank you for reading 💙
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/AlbaStarGazer)


	10. Killing Me Softly

Recovery was difficult at times, the road to it more like a beaten backroad with uprooted logs ready to trip them both.

The pain seemed inconsequential and out of reach despite her numerous injuries. It was the kind of mind over matter mentality that she had been raised with, propped up by Kylo, who rarely left her side.

The ring on her finger made her feel strong, a little less broken and able to conquer all, though she knew it was more of a symbol and her real strength came from within and the support of her husband. Over the years, that vitality and tenacity had been tested and though it waned at points, it never dissipated completely. The embers of it burned hot and bright, unwilling to die. Just as he had done when buried in metal.

More than anything, the whole experience initially felt like a cruel dream.

In the moments when the hospital room was dimly lit whilst most of its inhabitants slept and with the soundtrack of beeps the only real sound around, she wondered if any of this had really happened. If she was fated to wake and find nothing had changed, she would take it.

The weight of him next to her and the warmth emanating from his body did little to comfort her at that time as she imagined waking and finding all of it to be a lie. So as he slept, curled carefully at the edge of her bed and her in his hold, she remained awake, clinging to the reality she found herself in.

It had always been her hope that one day he would wake and suddenly remember her but for the longest time, she knew she was clawing at smoke. Now that it had actually happened, she doubted and feared that she would somehow lose him again and repeat the cycle of heartache and pain that she had long become accustomed to.

After a couple of days, she made some peace with the fact that it was real.

There was no denying his presence, the mannerisms of both Ben and Kylo seemed to blur into one.

And so she began to breathe easier and embraced her husband and did so knowing he would not disappear or slip through her fingers and leave phantom touches in his wake.

Adjustment was both a struggle and ease. In some ways, no thought went into it, it came naturally. Other times, it was like relearning a dance they had once mastered. Stepping on each other’s toes was a given. It was poking at boundaries and slipping back into place but not in the same way as before, never that.

There was no going back but instead of frightening her, the prospect and future unknown, it made her want to rise to the challenge.

The day they left the hospital was a quiet affair.

The ride home was silent for the most part.

Han had been the one to volunteer to take them home considering Rey was in no condition to drive and Kylo had not been behind the wheel since his accident. As they settled and the sun began to dip below the horizon, she saw a flash of fear cross his features, smoothed away just as suddenly as it appeared. The atmosphere shifted with the dimming of the sky, shadows danced around the interior and the air got cooler. Bundled up in the back seat, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and gripped his thigh, smoothing her thumb along the denim of his jeans.

“It’s okay, we’ll be okay.”

The radio was playing a song from the oldies station so Han’s attention was elsewhere, he kept his eyes on the road which afforded them a semblance of privacy.

In the enclosed space, his increased panic was noticeable. From the bounce of his leg and his breathlessness, she sympathised, knowing he was fighting a battle of his own. It had surprised her how she adapted back to the notion of travelling in a car despite being mowed down by one. With her, the trauma was mostly physical but with him, she knew there were so many factors at play and some cut deep, forever leaving a mark in his head. Those wounds would nearly heal but one instant could change that, open them up and make them fresh again, maybe wider than before.

So she stilled his knee with a firm press of her hand and gazed up at him, craning her neck so she could see him.

“You know, we might have a problem,” she said softly.

His brow lifted in question and his eyes did not seem as wide and swallowed by fear.

“What kind of problem?”

“I mean, I’ve been sleeping alone for nearly four years now. I wonder if I am too accustomed to my own space,” she joked, trying to play serious.

Colour filled his cheeks, the kind of pink that stained not just them but the tips of his ears too until they were red hot.

“Is that so?” He asked quietly.

Han increased the volume of the radio.

“I mean, you’re big.”

“And you’ve never had complaints about that before, sweetheart.”

His hand found its way on her own thigh.

It was her time to feel the heat on her face and blush, nibbling at her bottom lip. It had been so long since she encountered that side of him.

“And I won’t start now,” she breathed out and he chuckled, giving her thigh a final squeeze before he curled his arm around her shoulders, mindful of her broken arm.

The rest of the journey went well and with no rising panic in sight.

Han shot them both a knowing grin when they finally stepped out of the car.

“I’ll leave you both to it.”

Then it was just the two of them and the farm. In a lot of ways, it was quiet but there were the familiar sounds that comforted her. The rush of the river running on the eastern side of the property, the crickets chirping in the tall grass and the buzz of the porch light.

Both remained still for a while.

Home.

It had taken them nearly four years to return to it and with the other by their side, hands intertwined with slick palms.

“I’ve missed this place,” he finally spoke.

“It wasn’t the same without you.”

Kylo’s gaze fell over the rose bushes lining the wrap around porch. Though the visibility was low, the colours were still so vibrant in the blueish haze of the bug lights littered about.

“I used to dream of you tending to the roses. Each time you’d turn and beckon me forward but I’d always wake before I could take a step. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you look among them, so full of life like you’re putting a part of yourself into the soil.”

The admission tugged at her heart in the most loving way. It was a place she felt at peace.

“I used to imagine you singing along to the radio and watching me work like you used to. It brought me some comfort.”

His gaze fell upon her and his mouth gaped but no words came alive. Nothing was really needed at that point so she pulled him up the steps, feeling the chill in the air grow with every passing second.

The anticipation bled all the way to her fingertips and she realised she was shaking, this was the final step in welcoming home.

“We’ll be okay, remember? You told me that,” he reminded her.

It was the push she needed. Without hesitation, she unlocked the door and pushed it open with her knuckles. It squeaked and the porch creaked under their weight but it always had.

Kylo stepped inside right behind her. She could feel his breaths on her skin.

Then came the tinkling of a bell, a lovely chime that could only mean one thing.

Murray darted out from the kitchen and stilled in the hallway. The cat sniffed the air, his tail swung from side to side, likely in a defensive manner until he realised just who was standing in the doorframe.

He pounced, racing forward and nudged at Ben’s ankles, purring loudly as his paws tapped the ground impatiently.

Kylo dropped to his knees, donning one of the widest grins she had ever seen upon his face. Rey was sure she saw tears in his eyes and she could not blame him.

“There’s my little man.”

Murray leapt into his arms, pushing his face against Kylo’s as if he was asking where he had been all this time.

“He’s missed his daddy,” Rey commented as she closed the door.

Kylo scratched the cat behind his ears, just how he liked. Murray never let Rey touch him like that, she always supposed she did it wrong.

“I was gone for so long,” he mused and she remained silent, watching the exchange. There was no way she could argue with his words but in some sense, she had also been lost and not as present as she could have been, especially at home.

Murray continued to purr and Kylo stood with him, carefully smoothing his fingers along his spine. Exhaustion quickly set in. She was also due for another dosage of painkillers which Kylo reminded her as they climbed the stairs.

Before they arrived home, Amilyn had been over to take care of Murray so Rey was unsurprised to find the bed freshly made with clean sheets and blankets. The room was filled with a rosy scent, the kind that wafted around from a mix of laundry detergent and in through the window from the rose bushes below.

“I’ll get you some water for your pills,” Kylo said, immediately letting himself into the bathroom and still with Murray clinging to him.

Rey was not entirely sure she would be able to separate the two.

As best as she could, she managed to tug her jogging bottoms off and kick them into the corner. Her hoodie was a different story. The cast was restricting and limited her movement so she flailed about for a bit, huffing as she attempted to free herself of the fabric until a pair of hands settled on her waist.

“Easy there, let me help.”

His voice sounded different, deeper and hushed like something had washed over him and caused a change.

She allowed him to help her free, leaving her in a vest top and panties, the most exposed she had been in front of him in years save for their frantic kiss nearly a year before. Her skin prickled under his gaze as her body flushed.

Kylo cleared his throat and handed her both her pills and water which she promptly swallowed before sliding into bed. Murray was already spread across both of their pillows.

Kylo hesitated.

Rey patted the space beside her.

“If you don’t want to sleep here, there’s always the guest-room. I know you might want space.”

She was cut short by him shaking his head.

“It’s not that. I want to sleep with you. The accident caused a lot of damage, lots of glass so-“

“-you have scars. Kylo, I saw them the day you were painting, at least the ones on your torso. I’m not going to love you any less. They show you’re alive and that you survived. How could I hate them?” She whispered.

“You’re right.”

His pained expression softened.

He kicked off his shoes and lost his jeans quicker than she could blink. Or maybe it was the painkillers making time odd and non linear. There were scars on his thighs, pink ones but there was no revulsion, only regret that he had suffered such agonies. His shirt dropped to the floor and again she saw the darker scars, the ones deeper than the rest. One ran all the way from his shoulder to his jawline and connected with the one that bisected his face. Others stretched across his pectorals, the skin knitted, raised and gnarled in places but he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

They were his warpaint, proof he had lived despite the odds stacked against him.

“You’re beautiful. And still so strong.”

Kylo lifted the blankets and lay next to her, staring at the ceiling for the longest time. By the time he moved, she was nearly drifting off but he closed the distance between them and so she draped herself across his body, resting her face against his heart. The thud of it lulled her. She kissed the scar there and listened to the purrs of their cat who decided to settle on Kylo’s side, right in the crook of his arm.

“I love you,” she murmured, drawing it out and enjoying the words on her tongue.

His breath hitched.

“I never stopped loving you. I never will.”

For the first time in years, they both slept soundly.

* * *

The name predicament was hardly an issue at all.

It felt wrong to erase the name he chose for himself and there was a great deal of regret associated with that. She had been staunch in her refusal to use it then, ignoring him and what was in plain sight. It was different now.

So sometimes she referred to him as Kylo and other times as Ben. Both suited him and he expressed as such.

When he would spend time in the long abandoned art studio brought back to life, she would approach him, embrace him from behind and whisper Kylo into his ear.

When he asked about the tattoo on her wrist one day when she sat upon his desk, swinging her legs back and forth as he made careful, precise strokes of colour onto a canvas, she referred to him by that name too.

“I like it,” he supplied as he waited for an answer, reaching for her wrist and tracing the tiny rose there before he resumed his work.

“Whilst I was travelling, I met Rose. She reminds me of you, she’s battle worn but stronger than most. Rose even said we would find each other again.”

“She did?”

“Like the birds who flee winter, they find their way home, they always return to us and sing their song. I believe you will too, him as well.”

If only she had known just how right Rose had been, her sister despite the lack of blood shared between them.

“That’s what she said,” Rey nodded, gazing down at the rose.

Kylo placed his brush on the lip of the easel and cleaned his hands with a cloth.

He stood then, stepping into the light that spilled in from the wide window taking up most of the exterior wall. Splatters of colour made up his face, reds, blues, yellows and greens like constellations lost from the sky that found a new home on human skin. Her bare feet skimmed the hardwood flooring before she lifted them up, opening her legs only for Kylo to press himself between them.

“You’re my home, wherever you are, that’s where I want to be,” he whispered, bending just right so he could press a kiss on her collarbone.

Rey closed her eyes, lost in the moment and sensation. Every gentle brush was like a searing or branding of flesh and bone, one she welcomed. His hand cradled one side of her face, she leaned into it but his lips moved further up, suckling at the pulse point on the gentle slope of her neck. It made her curl her toes and dig her heels into the back of his thighs. It was all too much and not enough simultaneously. Overwhelming in the best kind of way.

Her fingers threaded their way through his hair as a way of encouragement until he finally put his lips where she wanted them the most. She kissed him back, tender and slow as birds chirped beyond the window.

There was no rush, especially with her injuries and both of them knew that. So she took whatever she could take, him so willing and eager to please. When they both pulled back, breathless with blown pupils, she felt innately lighter.

It felt right, like the shifting of a tide.

When he helped her on the farm due to her arm being in a cast, she would refer to him as Ben. It was even more poignant the day she finally allowed him entrance into the barn, a week after her cast was removed.

Her arm still ached, especially at the joint. It felt tight but manageable, already strong again. Confronting what she had done seemed like something she would be able to face now that she felt whole and right again.

The barn had been locked up tight like a time capsule.

“Ben,” she whispered, gripping his hand.

The Falcon was still damaged, glass littered the ground. It felt like a bloodbath without a drop of blood. Like some heinous crime had been committed that ended in a fatality. Which was fitting considering what followed the destruction of the car, they had parted ways and did so without the reassurance they would ever come together again. That initial separation felt like death.

Ben smoothed his palm along the dented hood, mindful to keep away from any shards. It was difficult to pinpoint the emotions darting across his face but she could have been blind and known that the sight caused him some pain. After all, this car had been his father’s before him, something they bonded over and then when the time came, Han trusted it with Ben.

Her grip on him loosened as he surveyed the windscreen. Even she could admit she had done a number on it, it was her own sadness and grief projected onto something, personified and made real.

“I’m sorry. I let everything build up and I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me and-”

-“You don’t have to explain,” Ben said, turning to face her. There were tears in his eyes, a sight she could hardly stomach but he sniffed and wiped them away with the back of his hand.

The air felt tight and sparse, the tension creeped from the shadows and made everything cold.

“We can fix it. I’ll need your help so be prepared to work.”

Sure she had misheard, she blinked and found him smiling.

“I’ve always liked a challenge. It seems fitting that we can fix something broken and do so together.”

She could not help herself, she leapt into his arms and as always, he was there to catch her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist and just relaxed.

“We can do anything,” she whispered.

So they did just that.

Of course there was a lot of work involved. It was an old car but Han kept spare parts and so did they. As Ben promised, he worked Rey and he worked her hard. Initially, she was the one to sweep the entire place clean, brushing the shards away until she sweat. The labour felt natural, it was all she had known for years and so she lost herself in it, smiling when she finally made the place habitable and safe.

Ben completed the more complicated tasks or heavy lifting. Then her tiny hands came in handy, her slender fingers able to fiddle with parts much too small for Ben’s thick digits. They took their time and did it right, spending full days holed up in the barn with the radio blaring some of their favourite songs.

The smell of oil and hot metal filled the space. Rey was stripped down to a pair of old jean shorts that hung low on her hips and a white vest top covered in grease and oil, so much black splotches found their way onto it. Ben was much of the same, he always opted for white when working, despite the mess involved. His trusty plaid shirt was tied around his waist and his jogging bottoms were baggy and loose.

Most of the time, she watched him. Whether he was on his back or under the hood, time seemed lost then. Sometimes Murray joined them, forever wanting attention from his favourite human and Ben could never deny him, opening his arms as they ate lunch on top of a blanket, just a jumble of picnic items between them.

Sometimes she just let herself do nothing but observe him and did so in an emboldened manner. There were changes she had barely registered before and not the obvious ones. The way he carried himself was new, so fresh and tiny in comparison to everything but she refused to let it go unnoticed.

There was no longer a hunch in his stance, he kept his shoulders back and spine ramrod straight and even when he worked beneath the hood, it was hard for her to keep her hands off of him. Because that insignificant detail was in no way insignificant. She told herself it was because there was no longer some terrible weight forcing him down into suffocation conditions. Both of them had shaken their shackles, lost their anchors and found the surface and did so at breakneck speed.

His back was to her, the falcon had been returned to its original glory. It reminded her of tearing up highways when no other cars were about and racing down the road like lightning itself.

Ben was giving the interior and engine a final check before he could deem it safe. The sounds of metal clanging against metal and his breathing filled the space. She had been resting, feeling the stiffness in her arm return after strenuous activity. So she stood, as quietly as she could muster and then closed the distance between them, reaching first with her palm before she flattened it across the base of his spine.

“Rey…”

“Ben.”

It was easy to slip her fingers under his shirt and feel each individual notch of his spine. She made sure to keep her touches featherlight but not so fleeting. Up close she could smell his sweat and his own natural scent and she hummed.

“I think someone needs a shower,” she smiled, skipping out of the barn before she could hear his reply.

He caught up to her on the stairs, his hands tugged at her waist before he hoisted her over his shoulder with ease. It was so unexpected but she could do nothing but laugh as he brought her to the bedroom and placed her on the bed.

He appeared much younger like this, with a grin so wide that if she had never have known him before that moment, she would have sworn the man had known nothing but joy and kept a wide berth from all sorts of pain and hardship.

She landed amongst the high stack of arranged pillows and huffed, finding herself caged in when he planted both hands on the mattress and covered her body with his own.

“Are you trying to say I smell?”

She shrugged and avoided his gaze before she caught his lips for a quick kiss.

“Maybe…”

“I can take a hint,” he mumbled before he gave her a final, knowing look and padded through to the bathroom.

The shower was relatively quiet but she listened closely, beamed when he began to sing some old Lynyrd Skynyrd song that meant so much.

She gave him a few minutes before she began stripping her own clothes, leaving a trail of them from the bedroom right into the bathroom.

Ben stood under the spray with his back to her.

It made her feel things, wants that had been aching for release ever since he returned home and longer.

The time felt right.

Still, her heart thudded like it would leap out of her throat and land on the tiles, so rapid it was almost all she could hear. It was stupid. He had seen her naked countless times, he was the only man in her life and always had been, seen her as an awkward teen and grow into a woman and loved both just as equally.

But this felt different. It made her call to their first time filled with inexperience, nervousness but also anticipation. That underlying anticipation blended with desire and made her less of a coward as she wanted him, she just needed to show him.

Suds and water rolled off his back and fell lower before finding their way into the plughole. Ben ran his fingers along his scalp a final time and then shut off the water. With that done, he tensed as if he sensed her presence and turned so slowly that she managed to find herself at the clear shower door before he did so fully.

Both of their hands rose up in perfect synchrony, a dance they did know until only the glass separated them, her hand dwarfed by his own. The closeness was not enough, far from it, she needed to experience his skin against her own and his lips everywhere as he stole her breaths.

His eyes wandered, making her flame and flush even more. There was not a part of her unseen and he took his time, his teeth dragged against his bottom lip until she spotted a tiny pool of blood. When he finally had his fill and gazed into her eyes once more, there was something else there. His pupils bled so heavily into his irises that there was little colour remaining, just a dark, poignant show of his own want.

“Rey.”

She stepped back so he could open the door but as soon as he was free, he was like a second skin, his eyes roamed about everywhere, first finding her hips. His thumb traced the curve of her hip bone and did so delicately as their lips met. As predicted, he swallowed every moan of hers before he hoisted her up, his fingers splayed across her ass, digging in as he tested the flesh. Then he did so again, keeping her up with one hand as he slapped one of her cheeks.

It made her jolt but she loved it.

They were moving but all she could think of was him and his taste or how his wet hair soaked her face.

She awed in the way he managed to press her against the mattress, almost gentle but with a desperate undertone, the kind that showed his patience had long run thin. Quite like her own.

He hulked over her, caging her beneath him.

“Open,” he whispered, bringing his fingertip to the seam of her lips. There was no pause to her actions, only a reaction, the kind he asked of her but one that came so naturally.

When she parted her lips, he dipped his finger in and she in turn sucked it into her mouth, so greedy. It made her feel full of him despite the single digit occupying her and she wanted more. He added another.

“Suck.”

There was little grace or finesse in how she did it. It was wet and sloppy, her jaw ached as he opened her up, wider and wider until he removed his fingers, soaked with her saliva and then trailed them lower.

Without any prompting, she spread her legs, splaying them wide and made herself accessible. The first touch was like the very first, all those years ago. So eager in its exploration and with eyes enraptured by the heat and wetness found there. Her lips gaped as he slid two in without any resistance.

Above her, his breath hitched.

“You’re so wet,” he marvelled, the vulnerability and nakedness wormed its way through the cracks of both of their insecurities.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she sighed, closing her eyes to focus entirely on his thick fingers opening her up.

They hit all the right spots, the ones that made her squirm, the ones that made her breasts bounce with all the sudden movements and the ones that made her clamp down and beg for more.

“I used to dream of this,” Ben whispered before he dipped low, a series of open-mouthed kisses rained down, all the way from her nape to her breast before he finally swallowed her nipple.

The sensation was almost too much, especially when his teeth grazed it between each swipe of his tongue or gentle suckling of his lips. The hollowing of his cheeks sent her flying but his fingertips kept her grounded, inside or out of her, each pressing was like another kind of kiss.

Reality had never felt so sweet though it felt more like a fever dream, searing and blinding and endless in its passion.

His breaths were heavy and frequent, they were everywhere and nowhere at all but more than anything, they were hers. Between her legs, he continued to curl his fingers in a way that coaxed more than moans, it made her bring her hips right off the bed and grind into his waiting palm.

With each movement, he was there to meet her, the sounds were lewd, almost animalistic in nature. All they knew was want and it burned hot.

“I need you, I need more.”

Ben stilled but kept his fingers buried inside, knuckle deep and pressed against the sensitive spot that made her gasp and nearly tumble over her words. In that moment, she did not care how desperate she sounded. This was more than a want or need, she was so pent up and frenzied that she half convinced herself that she could not live another second without feeling him inside of her.

Right where he was supposed to be.

He shifted, righted himself by planting his palm next to her flushed face and withdrew his fingers from her cunt. There was no shame shared between them when he brought them to his lips, spread them and took his time swallowing her juices. He was even generous, offering her some with a coy smile that reminded her of the boy who she first fell for.

And she did take, tasting herself as he hummed in appreciation, sealing it all with a kiss.

There was an art to how he pinned her flat to the mattress without the use of his hands, they were much too occupied. She felt his cock brush against her and so she angled her hips just right and felt him nudge again but this time, it stole the breath right out of her lungs.

All she could see were black pupils as he brought his hips inwards and slid right in, filling her in a way she had been in yearning of ever since that storm.

Ben stuttered and pulled in a heavy breath through his pursed lips that gaped some more when he finally burled himself to the hilt and tested her limits.

“Fuck, Rey.”

“I know.”

She blinked the tears from her vision and pawed at his face, patting everywhere she could to get a hold of him as their foreheads met, just so they could both still and adjust. Their laughs were breathless, her heart raced and she felt whole again.

Then he began to move, his thrusts shallow and borderline unsure to begin with, like if he drove too hard he would break and bend her in ways that she could not take. But she was flesh and bone and wanted to be treated that way.

“Harder,” she panted, feeling sweat wet her brow.

Her nails carved a trail from his waist to his hips, drawing blood in places, a way she asked for more without words. The best kind of encouragement, the one that bordered both pleasure and pain and united the two to make something different and almost beyond their comprehension or understanding.

All of the coaxing, gentle and harsh, culminated in him giving her more, all he really had. The stretch was almost too much, like she was bursting at the seams and too tight to take him and yet she did not. She took him like she was made for it.

It had been so long but he had prepared her so well and yet she continued to moan, the sound full of tears and the rest of her so full of him. A chorus of expletives rolled off both of their tongues, no real effort was put in to expressing and making those words comprehensible, it was already so loud with the slapping of their skin.

She clung to his shoulders and curled her fingers around the hard muscles there and just held on. Held on as if her life depended on it. When she asked for him to fuck her harder, she had almost forgotten just how deep he could reach or how every time he sunk into her, he could do so fast or slow and still make her squirm since he made every stroke count.

The muscles in her legs burned, her toes curled against the back of his thighs and ran along them until she could do nothing more.

“You were made for me,” he grunted, wrapping one hand around the back of her neck. He squeezed and held her in place, doing most of the work and in return, she squeezed him, clamping around his cock with every slick pull and drag.

She could hear just how wet she was, feel his cock pulse and twitch or how his stomach muscles tensed against her own. He was close and so was she but she did not want it to end, neither did he if his change in pacing spoke for him. He slowed, choosing to take his time, rotate his hips and parted her folds before he would briefly touch her clit with his calloused thumb, only to take it away when she thought she would come apart underneath him.

She tensed and gritted her teeth in an attempt not to chew right through her lip, it was delirium, an intoxication and she was drunk on him. Ben seemed in a similar state, his pale skin was alight with a full body flush and his hair damp. The veins and tendons in his neck strained with every movement and she raised her head just enough to suckle at his pulse point and leave a mark there.

A sound, something between a groan and moan left him and she knew it had toppled him over the edge. His reared back, attempting to catch a breath before he grappled her hip with one hand and parted her cunt with a wet sound before he finally made her fall apart.

He still fucked into her as her orgasm found her, it did so in waves as she convulsed around his cock, clenching uncontrollably and then he fell forward and said her name when he came.

He spilled inside of her, still thrusting but it was nearly a standstill. She felt light and he could hardly catch his breath but he pulled out and she mourned the loss and soon felt his come leave her.

He did not allow it, his throaty chuckle vibrated against her belly as he kissed there, just above her belly button and slipped two fingers inside of her cunt, still gaping and clenching around nothing.

The idea was inexplicably hot to her. Like he wanted a part of him deeply rooted within her that would never leave and so she closed her eyes, content and enjoyed what he offered. It was not long before he adjusted and slid behind her, his hands splayed on her hip and the other around her waist.

Both were spent and fulfilled.

“Thank you,” she whispered, bringing his hand up so she could kiss his palm.

“For what?”

“For finding your way back to me.”

She was sure she heard a reply, so soft, whispered endearment but by then, she was already half asleep, bone tired and her body sore from using muscles she had not used in years.

She did feel the press of his lips against her hair and then she allowed sleep to take her.

* * *

She found him on the porch just before dawn. Murray was by his side, nudging his forearm.

“You’re just mad that I didn’t let you out earlier in the rain. It’s me who has to clean up your muddy paw prints, you know,” he cast his gaze down at the cat, scratching behind his ear.

For a while, she leaned against the staircase, enjoying the gentle breeze that blew in from the screen door and observed them. A petrichor accompanied it, a scent she would forever find some peace in, the smell of wet soil and the earth that birthed all life. It was a reminder that all could grow. It made her swell with a feeling she could not quite pinpoint but she did not overthink, instead she laughed behind her fist when Ben spoke openly to the cat about any thoughts that came to his head. They were so trivial and yet his silent companion listened, just happy to have his favourite human home at last.

A floorboard creaked beneath her but he did not seem to care of her disruption, instead welcoming her with a smile that spoke volumes. Like her, he opted not to dress and so she shuffled forward, dragging the blanket with her until she was outside.

This was what it was like to live and live happily. It was early morning smiles shared between lovers, with eyes still full of sleep but still so bright.

She settled between his thighs, sighing when his hands cradled her from behind. She pulled her legs up off the ground and onto the chair, curling her toes against the wood as she rested her chin upon her knees.

The quiet of dawn washed over their land. Only the creak of the swinging chair was to be heard. The night slowly blossomed into morning, the purples and blues came together with pinks and orange to light up the sky.

Rey remained perched between Ben’s legs with her back against his chest. Their nudity felt freeing, with only a thin blanket wrapped around them for warmth. Feeling his skin against hers offered enough heat, she could melt in it.

The pitter patter of his heart against her back lulled her. The ache between her legs was something she relished in, a show that they had been together and that they would always connect in that way.

“I feel loved,” she murmured, so quiet and sincere.

The contrast between the past and present hit her and hit her hard. Back then, it was easy to pretend he never loved her when in reality, he loved her so much that he made a martyr of himself and pushed her away, thinking it was the only solution. In a way, it was. Both needed direction and time to make peace with not only themselves but each other.

His voice was croaky after a night without sleep and little talk.

“You are, you always were.”

She believed him, she felt it right in the bones of her, felt it where his warmth leaked into her own and made something hot, made a love that could never die.

“So were you.”

There was a shift in the air and a change, something that would have once worried her but it did little now. She braced herself against him, leaning back enough so she could tilt her neck and press a kiss along his jaw before she gazed forward and upward.

A flash of white crackled along the skyline, followed by thunder and then the rain fell, washing and cleansing all it touched. A few errant drops wormed their way through the wooden roof of the porch, leaking through the odd hole and dripped on their hands, rolling right off their wedding rings. Beyond the porch, the rain came down heavy and so sudden but neither moved, instead sitting still, both enjoying the scents that wafted up from the soil, grass and rose bushes.

Ben did not flinch, he only held her tighter, watching the skyline the same as she did.

Without fear.

The storm rolled in but they were calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that is it.
> 
> Thank you **so** much for walking this journey with me. It was hugely cathartic in a personal way. 
> 
> I do want to say epilogues in the future might be a possibility whenever I feel inspired so I would stay subscribed but for now, I will be saying goodbye to these two.
> 
>   _Strumming my pain with his fingers._  
>  _Singing my life with his words_  
>  _Killing me softly with his song_  
>  _Killing me softly with his song_  
>  _Telling my whole life with his words_  
>  **Killing me softly with his song...**

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who knows me, knows I am not so impulsive with posting a fic but I needed to get this out. It is only 10 chapters sooo
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated 🖤


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